The Worst That Can Happen
by Smitty3
Summary: After Cal is in an accident, Gillian comes to a crossroad.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Characters from the Lie to Me universe are not the property of this author. The author is making no profit by this story. Just taking them out to play and will hose them down and put them back when I'm done.

**The Worst That Can Happen**

Ria Torres didn't need to be an expert in detecting emotions when Gillian Foster burst out of her office. Fear and panic screamed from her boss. From her wild eyes, her flailing hands as they dug through her handbag, Ria knew immediately this was no time for lines or minding her own business. Rushing forward she laid a hand on Foster's forearm. "What's wrong?"

Foster's gaze jumped to her face, barely seem to recognize her. "It's Cal…Dr. Lightman…he's been in a car accident."

"Oh, no," Torres breathed. "Is he hurt?"

"I can't find my keys," Foster wailed. "Why can't I find my damned keys?"

Seriously hurt, Torres affirmed to herself. "Loker!" she bellowed.

A mop of dark curly hair popped around the corner, "Yeah?"

"You need to drive Dr. Foster to the hospital." She answered his unspoken question, "Lightman's been in an accident and I don't think she should be driving herself."

"Sure," he quickly agreed and laid his hand gently Foster's shoulder. "Dr. Foster…Gillian…where is he? What hospital?"

Foster took a deep breath, then another, which seem to steady her a tiny bit. "North Memorial. But I've got to get Emily first. She needs to be there, too."

"That's okay," he assured the distraught woman, "Her school's on the way." He glanced at Torres, knowing she'd pick up his signal.

"Right," she acknowledged, hoping Lightman had been taken to North because it was the closest hospital and not because it had the best trauma center in the area. "I'll call Emily's school and tell them you're on the way. I'll make some other calls and tie some stuff up and be there as soon as I can."

Loker nodded, relief at not having to deal with the situation alone for too long plain on his face. "I'll get my coat."

Like magic, Heidi materialized behind them, holding out each of their winter coats. Torres shot her a quick look of gratitude as she hustled Foster into her winter wrap. "Go," she gave Foster a gentle push down the hall.

Taking a second to calm her own shaking nerves as Foster and Loker trotted to the door, Ria breathed in her resolve. There were things that needed to be done. She could fall apart later.

Gilliam flew into the Emergency Room, Emily clinging frantically to her arm. Before they even made it to the information desk, a young woman in teal scrubs trotted up to them.

"Mrs. Lightman?"

"I'm his partner," Gillian responded, not caring if she claimed a role not rightly hers. "This is his daughter."

"You got here just in time," the young woman turned down the hallway with a follow-me gesture. "I'm Dr. Arun. Mr. Lightman is being prepped for surgery right now. If we hurry, you can get a minute or two with him before they take him in."

"How is he?" Emily dared to ask. "He gonna be okay?"

Gillian didn't see anything on the young doctor's face that she wanted to see.

"He's critical." Dr. Arun answered, eyes averted. She pushed open a door in front of them. "He's in the first room on the right. Just to warn you, he's been intubated, he isn't breathing on his own."

Gillian wanted to ask more questions, but Emily's anguished gasp and her own panicked knowledge that Cal would be whisked away, possibly forever, in a matter of minutes kept her silent. Taking a deep breath she entered the room.

It wasn't quite as bad as what she'd steeled herself for. There were no pools of blood or obvious maiming of limbs. Only Cal, lying sprawled on his back, a plastic tube in his mouth, his chest rising and falling with the regularity of the machine at his side. Something about his chest and abdomen looked wrong but Gillian had no time to analyze it.

"Oh, Daddy," Emily moaned as she pushed her way past Gillian to get at her father. Reaching out to grab, she jerked back inches from contact.

"That's okay," the dark haired man at Cal's side glanced up. "Touch him all you want. You won't hurt him."

With a sob, Emily clamped on to Cal's arm, moving up to stand by his head. "Daddy? Daddy, can you hear me? It's me. I'm here. It's me, Em."

The dark haired man – Greg by his name tag – didn't look up from his work, which seem to be threading a needle into the artery in Cal's wrist. "Arterial line," Greg explained without being asked. "It will help us keep a close eye on his blood pressure. As soon as I'm done, they'll be taking him into surgery."

Gillian understood and quickly moved up to the head of the bed. To her surprise, Cal's eyes were open and, though obvious heavily drugged, coherent. He stared intently at Emily and Gilliam could see the frustration at his inability to talk.

Gillian leaned over, unable to stop herself from stroking his fine hair back from his face. "You're going to be alright, Cal."

Not the right track, judging from the grimace on his face. "You want to tell Emily how much you love her?"

An emphatic nod.

Oh, Daddy, you know I love you too?" Emily clung desperately to his hand.

A softer nod, and slight smile around the tubing. His eyes flicked up to meet Gilliam's squarely. And she could read everything as he flung rapid fire micro-expressions at her. She wanted to close her eyes against everything she saw, but she'd done far too much of that to him recently. Wrapping her arm around his head, she whispered in his ear, "I know. I know. Me, too. I love you, too."

"I'm done," Greg announced. "I'm sorry. We have to bring him into surgery now. Dr. Arun will show you where you can wait and tell you whatever she can."

Gillian and Emily waited. Loker found them after parking the car and the three of them waited. A nurse or some kind of hospital staff showed them to the surgical waiting room and they waited. Time passed and they waited. They made themselves at home in one of the small cubicles with multiple chairs and a television and they waited. Torres showed up sometime later and they all waited together. The television droning in the background, they waited, periodically one of them would wonder over to the monitor which listed patients and their status. LigC was always still listed in SURG2 so they waited. Emily's mom called and said she was trying to get on the next flight back. Hours passed, Eli left and brought back some food and coffee from the vending machines and they waited.

Gillian tried to keep her mind in neutral, trying not to think at all. Worrying would achieve nothing, except possibly make Emily more anxious, so Gillian tried desperately tried to think of nothing. Tried not to think of Cal, gravely injured, possibly already dead. Tried not to think…Shit…where were the damned doctors!

"Cal Lightman's family?" a soft, tired voice startled the entire group, who'd been half drowsing.

"Yes," Gillian leaped to her feet.

"I'm Dr. Slaungard," he offered his hand. "I presided over the surgery on Mr. Lightman."

Gripping his hand, Gillian feverishly searched his features. "How is he?"

Slaungard grabbed a nearby chair and slumped down into it. "Better than I expected," he stripped the sweat-soaked cap off his head. "He's still in critical condition, of course, but I'm hopeful for a complete recovery."

The collective relieved sigh filled the cubicle. "Thank you," Loker whispered.

Leaning forward, Slaungard ran a hand through his hair. "He's not out of the woods yet. He has a number of very serious injuries…"

"What injuries?" Gillian ventured.

Dr. Slaugard held out his hand, spreading his fingers. "Both his spleen and gall bladder were ruptured and I had to remove them. Not that big of a deal, but he did have quite of bit on internal bleeding. His liver was damaged, I think we stopped the bleeding but we'll have to keep a close eye on it. His pelvis was broken in two places, we didn't do anything about that, we'll see how it heals on its own."

"When we saw him," Emily interjected breathlessly. "He wasn't breathing on his own."

The doctor nodded wearily. "Yes, that's the worst of his injuries. His thoracic diaphragm, the big muscle that separates the thorax from the abdomen and allows you to breath, was severely ruptured."

Gillian tried to suppress her moan, but it must have been audible, for Torres wrapped her hands around Gillian's shoulders and the doctor gave her a quick look of compassion.

"We stitched everything all back together, but in order for the diaphragm to heal, we've got the ventilator doing all the work of breathing for him. Hopefully, in a few days, if there are no complications, we can start to wean him off and see how he does on his own."

"Anything else?" Emily whispered.

"Well, his left ankle is a mess, but the orthopedic surgeon is in there right now pinning it back together." Slaungard scrubbed at his face. "And though the X-ray and CAT scan didn't show too much out of the ordinary, there was a significant amount of time before the EMT's got to him after the accident."

"So?" Gillian asked fearfully.

"His oxygen level was very low for too long. There is a strong possibility of brain damage."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the encouragement! I can't promise to always update this fast, but the story is rolling along pretty good right now.

**Part 2**

Gillian couldn't wrap her head around the concept. Brain damage? Cal? No, that brilliant mind couldn't…it wasn't possible. But Cal was human, just flesh and blood. It wasn't always other people and their families that things like this happened to. Cal had no special immunity.

"But," Emily started hesitantly. "He was awake when we saw him before surgery." She glanced at Gillian for confirmation. "He seemed like he knew us, didn't he?'

"Yes," Gillian was quick to affirm. "He seemed to be fairly oriented, considering…"

"That's good," the doctor grinned. "That's a very good sign. Like I said, his X-ray and CAT scan were just outside of standard norms, so brain damage isn't a certainty only a possibility. I don't like to keep patient's families in the dark." He stood up, arching to stretch back muscles as he did. "You'll probably be seeing quite a lot of me in the next few days. I like to keep close track of my patients."

Gillian stretched out her hand to take his. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Slaungard gave her hand a firm squeeze. "I'll have someone take you up to the ICU waiting room. It'll probably be awhile yet before they get him settled in a room, but the family waiting room upstairs is much more comfortable."

* * *

He was right, the ICU family room was much more comfortable. Couches, recliners and easy chairs were arranged in cozy little groups, with a few computer workstations and vending machines against the wall. The small group shuffled in and made themselves at home for another wait.

"Can I get anybody anything?" Eli offered, his hands clenched in a tight ball.

Gillian glanced at her watch. Seven hours, they'd already been here more than seven hours, it was now quickly approaching nine at night. "You don't have to stay, Eli. It's getting late. You too, Ria."

A testament to how tired and worried Gillian was, she almost missed the identical looks of offensive on the faces of her co-workers. "No, I didn't mean…"

"A cuppa," Emily blurted.

What?" the three adults asked in unison.

"A cuppa," Emily repeated. "Dad always said…" she looked over at Gillian, her large dark eyes almost overwhelming the rest of her features. "He said when the world's going to shit, have a nice cuppa tea and some biccies." She managed a slight smile. "He is English, you know"

Gathering Emily against her, Gillian sent an apologetic look at their staff. "I think a cuppa would be great right now."

Eli smiled back, apology accepted. "C'mon, Torres, let's go find a cuppa and some biccies."

"You know," Gillian whispered in Emily's ear. "Your dad wouldn't like to hear you swearing like that."

Emily rolled her eyes. "It's just a word. How is it different from crap or..or poop? They mean the same thing."

Gillian was speechless for a second, then had to bite down on a smile. "He still wouldn't like it."

If Emily rolled her eyes any harder they would fall out of her head. "Fine. Whatever. But he's the one who said it first."

Pulling her in for another hug, Gillian released her smile. "I think you already know that parents don't like their kids to do a lot of things they do themselves."

"Yeah, I figured that out a while ago," she laughed. But the laughter morphed into a strangled sob. "He's got to be all right, Gill. He's just got to! What will I do without him? I can't lose my dad!"

Gillian drew the sobbing girl against her shoulder. "Shhh, sweetheart, shhhh. We just have to face this one day at a time. One hour at a time if we have to. Just what's there in front of us. If we start worrying about 'what-if' or 'maybe' we make ourselves crazy and we won't be able to help your dad when he needs us. Deal with what's in front of us and any thing else…well, we'll go there when we get there."

Emily's sobs lessened then stopped, leaving her mopping her face and struggling to regulate her breathing. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Oh, don't be sorry, luv," Gillian borrowed Cal's favorite endearment. "Tears aren't a bad thing. There will be times in the next days, where you will need to be strong, for your dad's sake. But this isn't one of them. Whenever you feel the need, you can come to me, " Gillian added hastily, "Or your mom. "Or even Eli and Ria. Or lock yourself in a bathroom, if being alone makes you feel better."

Emily snuggled in closer. "You too, you know. You don't have to take care of everyone by yourself. It's okay to take care of yourself, too. Or let someone else take care of you for a little while. You're not alone, Gill."

"I know, sweetheart. Thank you."

* * *

Cal Lightman's thoughts were scattered, elusive, impossible to hold on to for more than a fleeting moment. He was vaguely aware of pain, quite a massive amount of it, actually, but it seemed quite a distance away and not worth worrying about at the moment. Voices talked around him, but he couldn't concentrate enough to understand what they were saying. Only word fragments penetrated the porridge in his brain. "Turn….fine…I need…tube…okay…another pump…roll over…"

Hands tugged at him, rolling him over onto his side. He didn't like it one bit but found there was no air in his lungs to protest. Then hands pulled him onto his back, over a huge lump then onto his other side. Trying to prevent any more manhandling, he reached to shove whoever was doing this to him away. Tried to anyway, but found moving his arms as difficult as trying to talk.

What the hell was going on? Immobilized, through drugs, or whatever, he wasn't certain, with other people moving him wherever they wanted him. He groaned. Not again! He really didn't want to be anyone's hostage again.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Finally, a nurse came to take them to Cal's room. He led them down a hallway, through a wide door, to a sink where they were instructed to wash their hands thoroughly, down another hallway, past a long desk to eventually a stop in front a windowed room. The young man poked his head inside then motioned them to enter.

Filled with as many machines as the Lightman Group lab, the room kept from being as cramped due to its unexpectedly large size. Gillian let out a pained sound at the sight of poor Cal, in the middle of all the machines. With all his manic energy and aggressive spirit, he always gave the impression of being a much bigger man than he really was. Now he looked small and fragile amidst the confusion of wires and tubes.

"Hi, I'm Missy," a tiny, platinum blonde nurse introduced herself. "I'll be his nurse tonight. I've got a couple more things to finish up and then I'll need your help with the admission forms."

Gillian nodded vaguely and forced herself to approach the bed. She could feel Emily's rapid breathing against the back of her arm. Lying slightly tilted to his right side, Cal was motionless, except for the machine generated raising and falling of his chest. A pair of very bright paisley patterned shorts, the only thing he was wearing, exposed the tubes going into his chest and the vast surgical incision that ran from right between his nipples almost to his navel.

Eli quickly crossed to far side of the room, to stare shakily out the windows. "Nice view," he murmured, his face almost as pale as Cal's.

"How…" Gillian cleared her throat and began again. "How is he?"

Missy glanced up from her work of labeling the lines on the IV pump. Her blue eyes bright with compassion, she smiled. "Critical but he's resting comfortably right now. Of course, we've got him pretty sedated, but he needs that to heal." She motioned at the monitor at the head of Gillian's side of the bed. "His vitals are decent. The top one is blood pressure, which has made me happy and come up nicely."

Emily peeked around Gillian. "100/58, that's kinda low, isn't it?"

"A little, but it looks like he's was in pretty good shape so that may not be far from normal for him. Don't worry if you see it jump up and down some. We're taking the BP off the arterial line, so its real time readings." She pointed at the next line, "That one's heart rate, from the patches you see on his chest. And his heart is bumping along at an almost perfect 68."

Gillian and Emily shared a look of tiny relief. "What's the next one?"

"Oxygen saturation. The sensor is taped to his finger."

Emily examined it, still looking like she was skittish about touching her father. "How doesn't that work? All I see is a little red light."

"Darned if I know," Missy grinned. "We'd be happy with anything about a 90 considering his condition, so a 93% makes me ecstatic. Don't pay any attention to the bottom two lines, those are just so I can keep an eye on my other patient. Go ahead and touch him if you want. He's pretty sedated, but there's a good chance he knows you're here. Talk to him and touch him, its good therapy for him and you."

"Hey, Cal," Gillian leaned close. Mostly obscured by the headgear holding the ventilator tube in place, his precious face was relaxed, with no lines of tension or pain. Laying her hand on his stubbled cheek, she found her expectation of cool, clammy replaced by warm slightly oily skin. "It's me, Gillian. Emily is here with me. So are Eli and Ria." Tears choked any more words she might have said.

"He's still alive," Emily whispered, tears spilling down onto her father's hand which she held tight against her cheek. "This is all so freaking scary, but he's still alive."

"Yes, sweetheart, he's alive," Gillian stroked down his cheek then up into his hair. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, "And you're going to stay that way, yeah."

A throat cleared softly behind them. "Gillian…"

She had almost forgotten Eli and Ria were still there. Holding out his keys, Eli laid his free hand on her shoulder. "Ria's gonna give me a ride home. Take my car, so you can go home when you're ready. I know you want to stay awhile longer without us hanging around."

"You don't have…"

His hand shift to her mouth, "Let us do this for you guys, okay?"

Wrapping her arms around Emily, Ria nodded. "There's little enough we can do to help, let us do this."

Turning, Gillian found herself enveloped in Loker's strong arms. "Okay."

"And don't forget to take care of yourselves, either," Eli quickly kissed the top of her head. "Promise?"

"Promise." Emily held out her arms for her own hug. "See ya tomorrow?"

Eli and Ria switched sides and hug partners. "Yeah, we'll be here but probably not until afternoon."

"That's fine," Gillian nodded. "I might want you to pick up some things for me from the office."

"Just call, anytime." Ria assured her. She walked over to where Missy was now working on the room's computer. "Take good care of him. For all of us."

"I will," Missy smiled back.

For a long time after Eli and Ria left, Gillian and Emily simply stood at Cal's bedside, stroking his face and his hands, murmuring inconsequential words, needing to feel the warmth of his skin, the blood still pulsing through his veins.

"Excuse me," Missy grimaced apologetically from her stool at the computer. "There's some information I need to get, for the admission forms."

"Sure," Gillian nodded wearily. "Whatever you need."

Emily pushed the room's other chair up closer to the bed, then motioned for Gillian to sit. Smiling in gratitude, Gillian settled herself, only to have Emily squeeze herself into the tiny space between Gillian's hip and the arm of the chair. Scooting over as much as she could, Gillian pulled the teenager close.

"His name's Callum Lightman?" Missy asked.

"Cal. He goes by Cal."

"Well, that answers my second question too. And you're Mrs. Lightman?"

Gillian took a small pained breath. "No, I'm Gillian Foster. I'm his business partner."

Missy's eyebrows raised in a micro-expression of surprise. "Oh, I thought…is there a Mrs. Lightman."

"He's divorced."

"My mom's in Chicago right now."

"If he's not conscious and needs other procedures, who would be able to sign consent forms?"

"I have full power of attorney."

"You do?" Emily turned wide eyes to her. "When did this happen?"

"After I divorced Alec…well…we both wanted someone we could trust, not just with the business but personal stuff too, to be able to handle things if something went wrong." She took a breath. "Like now."

"So he has power of attorney for you, too?"

"Yup."

"Oh," a small smile ghosted across Emily's face.

"You have a problem with that, sweetheart."

"No," the teen shook her head vigorously. "It's cool. Very cool."

"Just a couple more questions," Missy reminded them of her presence. "How tall is he?"

"5'7"

"Does he smoke?"

"No." "Not any more."

"When did dad smoke?"

"He quit when he found out your mom was pregnant with you."

"I didn't know that. How do you know that? You didn't know him then. Did you?" Emily wondered.

"No, I met him when you were a year old. He told me." Gillian grinned. "After I asked him about the picture I saw of him and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He quit because he didn't want you exposed to it."

Emily nodded but remained silent.

"How about alcohol?"

"He drinks once in awhile but usually not more than a couple at a time. I don't think I've ever seen him really drunk."

This time it was Gillian who nodded but keep quiet.

"Is he allergic to anything? Ever reacted to any drugs?"

The teen and the woman glanced at each other and slowly shook their heads. "Not that we're aware of."

"Is he on any medication currently?"

"Nope," Emily answered confidently.

"How about any significant medical history? Any surgeries, serious illnesses, broken bones?"

"Dad's always been real healthy." Emily let out a giggle, "He did break a bone in his hand when he punched out that Terry friend of his."

"He did?" Gillian gulped in astonishment. "He told you about Terry?"

"Well, not much. But he couldn't really hide how swollen up his hand was."

"So Cal punched him…" Gillian repeated in wonderment.

"Last question, has he ever been given blood products and if he has, did he have any reaction to it?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"His hemoglobin is low, so we'll be giving him a couple of units as soon as it comes up from the blood bank."

"Is that bad?" Emily clutched at Gillian's hand.

"No, after the surgery he had, it would be unusual if he didn't need some blood." Missy smiled. "Now I would suggest just relax for a little while, then go home and get something to eat and as much sleep as you're able."

"I don't know…"

"You'll hear this a lot here, but as hard as it can be to do, you have to take care of yourselves too. You won't be doing him any good by making yourselves sick."

Gillian turned her head to Emily's pleading eyes. "Just a little while longer. Please, Gill. Just a little while."

Gillian herself wanted more than just a little while. She wanted…she took a deep breath. She had a responsibility here not only to Cal but to Cal's daughter. A responsibility not built on duty but on love.

"Okay, sweetheart, a little while longer, but then we have to go take care of ourselves."


	4. Chapter 4

Authors's Note: Thanks again from all the great reviews. I very much appreciate the effort. There has been some concern expressed whether the worst in "The Worst that Can Happen" has already happened. Without giving away too much, I can say that Cal's recovery will not be quick or without setbacks. As some of you might have guessed a lot of this story is based on personal experience, but I'm also a sucker for a happily-ever-after. I hope you'll take the trip with me and find the ending satisfying.

Since most seem to like my Gillian and Emily, here is some more with them. Eli, Ria and Ben Reynolds will make an appearance also.

**Part 4**

Gillian sank down onto the couch as soon as they entered Cal's house. Even though she'd done nothing all day, she'd never felt more exhausted. She smoothed back her normally immaculate hair back away from her face, leaving her hand gripping a knot at the top of her head. She hadn't felt this dirty and achy since the day they'd spent at the collapsed construction site.

"Here." A mug extended across her vision.

Grasping the steaming mug, Gillian brought it to her nose. "Umm, honey lemon. Thanks, sweetheart."

Emily tried a smile that stopped short of her eyes. "I like it sometimes when I can't sleep."

A cell phone buzzed and both Gillian and Emily patted themselves looking for the culprit.

"It's mine," Emily dug her phone out of her pocket. "Mom."

Gillian nodded and closed her eyes, just breathing in the sweet tart scent of the tea. She needed to keep her nose out of anything between Emily and her mom. Not that she didn't have distinct opinions about Zoe. Oh, did she ever. Some of them she'd been brave enough to face Cal with. Things she thought he'd needed to hear. But she'd never say any of those things to Emily. She'd never put the teen in a position where she'd either have to defend or bad mouth some one she loved.

"Mom!" came a distraught teenage wail. "No way!"

Gillian cracked an eye open to find Emily, fear and more than a little anger flashing across her expressive features, pacing across the living room floor.

Emily stopped dead, her chin up in sudden defiance. "No way am I going to school tomorrow. You may think there something more important than dad but I don't." The girl listened in silence for a moment, her upper lip baring her teeth. "Fine. Do what you want. Like you always do. When have you ever considered what dad or I needed above what you wanted?"

The cell snapping shut sounded loud in the gaping silence. Rigid and shaking, Emily looked ready to explode or collapse. Gillian reached out a hand, hoping the teen would come to her. "Em?"

With a deep sigh, Emily hung her head backwards then gave her hair a wild shake. "Arrrghhh!" came a soul deep cry of anger and frustration. "Why are they always like this?"

Gillian was grateful when Emily reached back, settling herself on the couch. "You know I love my mom, but sometimes…I don't like her very much. Is that a really awful thing to say?"

Gillian knew she had to say something, something that would do no damage to either Emily's relationship to her mother, or her own friendship with the teen. "Not so awful. No matter how much you love some one, they'll still do things that you don't like."

"It's not…" Emily's lower lip trembled. "She says she can't get away until Thursday or Friday. Dad's critical, he may be…what trial could be more important than that?"

"She had other people depending on her too," Gillian replied half-heartedly.

"Don't, Gillian, just don't. She's not just leaving dad alone here for two days, she's leaving me too. How the hell would I deal with this alone?" Her voice broke. "What would I have done if you weren't here?"

"But I am here." Gillian reassured her, fighting down her own hot fury. "Your mom knew we wouldn't leave you alone."

"Yeah, sure," Emily answered in a deadened tone. "She wanted me to go to school tomorrow, but I told her I wouldn't."

Gillian knew she could never go into the office tomorrow and act like nothing had happened. There was no way she could ask Emily to try. "I understand, sweetheart. Listen, why don't you go up and take a shower? Then I'll take one and we'll both get ready for bed. I know sleeping isn't going to be easy, but we've got to try."

Emily nodded in reluctant agreement and followed her up the stairs.

Later, after some discussion on sleep wear and what bed Gillian would occupy, she found herself wearing Cal's t-shirt, lying on Cal's bed, clutching Cal's pillow against her chest. Tired beyond measure, she couldn't slow her thought down enough to sleep. She had told Emily they couldn't think about 'maybes' and 'what-if' but that was all her over-active brain threw at her. She turned restless to her side to find a small shadowed figure at the edge of the doorway.

"C'mon in, Em. I'm not sleeping," Gillian whispered.

Emily crept into the room and crawled up onto the king sized bed. Even in the dim light, Gillian could see she was wearing one of Cal's shirt, probably the polo shirt he'd worn the day before judging by the color.

With no more words, the two cuddled up together, finding enough comfort from the terror of the day in each other's arms for exhausted mind to relax and sleep.

* * *

"Reynold!" The moment Ben Reynolds set foot into the Lightman Group office, he found himself surrounded by a frantic Loker. "Just the man we need."

"Oh, oh," Ben frowned at the early morning commotion. "What is this about?" He had turned down Lightman's offer of deception training. He didn't need it in this situation, there were no micro-expressions to read and interpret. Loker emitted deep distress from every pore. "What happened?"

"Lightman was in a car accident last night." Loker steered him down the hall.

"How bad?"

Wiping a shaking hand across his face, Loker whispered, "Critical."

Reynolds' breath left him at the impact. He couldn't believe it. He'd always thought of Lightman as indestructible.

"Thank god you're here," Ria swept up to them. "We're trying to take care of some things so Gillian and Emily won't have to worry about them. Having an FBI agent asking will get the ball rolling faster than either of us."

"Sure," Ben agreed, still feeling dazed. "What do you need?"

Ria consulted the clipboard in her hand. "A copy of the police report and to find out where Lightman's car was towed. Once we find it, Loker and I will go and make sure there isn't anything personal or business in it. Dr. Foster will be staying with Emily at Lightman's house for the duration. It wouldn't be a bad idea, if you dropped over at both the houses, you know, make sure everything's locked up and safe."

Ben nodded quickly, "I can do that. Do you know where the accident occurred?"

"They took him to North Memorial. That's all we know."

"That's okay. I'll track it down." He swiveled, heading for the nearest phone.

"Oh, Ben. This afternoon, we're all heading down to the hospital to donate blood. Join us?"

Ben widened his eyes then grinned. The agency had been his home for a long time, but it touched him to be included in this dysfunctional little family. "Count on it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

Going back to the hospital was one of the hardest things Gillian had ever done and one of the easiest. She ached seeing Cal like that, so still and vulnerable, so hurt. She wanted desperately to help, to heal, but knew her role was/would be minimal at best. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't fix him, could do little more than hold his hand and stroke his head.

But as difficult as it was to be with him, it would be impossible to be anywhere else. They were connected, the two of them. Loker had once joked during a difficult case about the magnets they must have ingested that kept them from getting too far apart. From the first day she'd met Cal, the pull had been there. No way could she leave him alone in that hospital. There was simply no other place she could be.

After a quick breakfast, she and Emily made their way back to the hospital. As they exited on the fourth floor, Gillian felt a slight disorientation. They had been in so many different areas the night before.

Emily pointed at the sign on the wall. "ICU – 4A."

"Oh, good." Taking Emily's hand, she shared a look and a deep breath. "Let's go see your dad."

Gillian tapped on the door to Cal's room and the young man inside gestured for them to enter. As soon as she stepped into the room, Gillian's eyes went to the monitor. None of Cal's vital signs had changed from the previous night, she noted with relief.

"Are you his nurse for today?"

"Yup, I'm Damon." He grinned brightly. "I'll be here until 7 tonight. Are you family?"

"I'm his partner," Gillian repeated the partial lie. The words were literally true but Cal would have spotted her deception immediately. But this open-faced young man was not a human lie detector and easily accepted her words at face value, assuming a relationship that wasn't completely true. And Gillian would say or do anything, if it meant staying at Cal's side.

"Hi," Emily approached Damon with an extended hand. "I'm his daughter, Emily."

"Hi, Emily," Damon grasped her hand. Tall, broad shouldered with thick black hair and pretty, pretty eyes, Damon could easily turn a teenager's head. Or widen the sleep droopy exhausted eyes of a certain teenager.

Gillian hid her smirk, "I'm Gillian."

Drawn to the bedside, Gillian looked down at Cal's still face. "Hey, Cal." She couldn't think of anything to say. How are you? felt stupid. Obviously not so good. So she contented herself with smoothing his silky hair back off his face. "How was his night?" she asked Damon without taking her eyes off Cal.

"Missy said his blood pressure was bouncing around some, but not so much that she need to give him any meds for it. Other than that pretty stable. Gillian, are you his contact person?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. Could I get you to write your name and contact number on the board? If we need to get hold of you, its easier if its on the board than taking the time to look it up in his records."

Picking up the marker from on top of the board, Gillian wrote her name and cell number in large easily legible characters. She didn't want to think of any of the reason they may need to contact her when she wasn't here. Several other numbers and notations attracted her attention.

"What are these other numbers?"

Damon glanced away from Emily's adoring gaze. An embarrassment flashed, then he was all business again. "Dr. Slaungard, you've met him. He comes in afternoons when he's done with his scheduled surgeries." Damon pointed out the numbers. "Annette is his PA, she usually does rounds in about an hour, 8:30 or so. You'll be seeing a lot of Annette. Claudio is the ICU unit doctor. He'll probably be in around 10. This is a measurement for the ventilator cuff, so we know its staying in the right place. The other one's his weight. Every morning at four: weight, blood draw and chest x-ray."

64.3, Gillian frowned. Even with a quick recovery they wouldn't be able to prevent him from losing weight on a body that had no extra reserves.

Damon noticed her concern and point to a large bag filled with yellow fluid on the medical supply cabinet. "We're starting him on TPN, nutritional support, this morning. Not as good as real food, but the best we can do right now."

Moving expertly among all the tubes and wires, Damon grabbed a plastic bag from the wall and a towel from a cabinet then approached the bed. "Excuse me, Emily, but could I ask you to move to the other side of the bed?"

Emily nodded and scooted over to Gillian's side of the bed.

Laying the towel on Cal's check like a bib, Damon ripped open the bag and arranged the contents on the towel. "Mouth care," he explained. "Could you hand me the suction, the hose on the wall…the one with the rubber glove over tip."

Taking care not to touch the tip of the instrument, Emily gingerly handed it over to the nurse.

"Cal?" Damon leaned close over Cal's face. "I'm gonna suction out your mouth now." Cal's head reared back into the pillow when Damon stuck the probe into his mouth. "I know, buddy, I'm annoying the heck out of you but it's got to be done."

Cal swung his head to the side, but Damon was relentless. "Just a little bit more, bud, hang in there a couple seconds and I'll be done. Can't have that bacteria just sitting in there. Pneumonia is the last thing you need."

Gillian didn't know whether to be elated or horrified watching Cal struggling weakly but unable to escape the invasion, impeded by the ventilator hose. Part of her wanted to push Damon away, but another part couldn't help but rejoice at the first reaction they'd seen from Cal since the surgery. Still alive and responding inside that poor battered body.

"You want to take care of the tooth brushing while I get the IV set up," Damon asked with more than a trace of compassion on his broad handsome features.

Gillian wondered briefly if he'd had any training in reading expressions or if it was only experience that told him how much she need to help, with something, anything. Standing, watching, totally out of control, would make her crazy in short order.

"Sure."

He handed her a green sponge on a stick and a small white packet. "There's no trick to it. Normal everyday brushing. Just make sure you get his tongue."

More than a little nervous, Gillian spread the white liquid on the sponge. "Cal, it's me, Gilian. I'm going to brush your teeth now." She tried to copy Damon's matter-of-fact tone. But as soon as the brush touched his lips, Cal jerked his head away. His rejection hurt her heart a little, then she realized her mistake.

She leaned closer to his face, lowering her tone to a near whisper. "It's okay, love. It's me, I'm here. Just Gill. Nothing to be frightened of. Emily's here too and we won't let anything hurt you. You can relax. It's okay."

To her delight, Cal's eyes cracked open, just enough to show a crescent of hazel green. "That's right. I'm here and you're going to be okay."

His eyes fluttered, then slid closed, his body tension visibly slackening. This time when she touched the brush to his lips, he made no protest. Possible even opened his mouth slightly, though she could have been imaging that part.

Emily reached over. "Let me do the other side."

"Good job," Damon praised. "I'm gonna go pick up the rest of his morning meds and I'll try to scrounge up another chair for this pretty young woman."

Emily blushed furiously and as soon as Damon left the room, leaned over to whisper in Gillian's ear, "I think I'm in love."


	6. Chapter 6

And now for a slight interruption to your regularly scheduled episode, I present a slightly bizarre snippet of Cal's sedation dreams.

**Part 6**

Cal lay on his side, blood soaking his clothes, pooling around him. He supposed he should be in pain with this much blood, but he felt none. Voices echoed around him, an argument, two, no three men arguing about something…a robbery, he thought. A robbery gone bad.

A robbery? Was he some kind of stick up man? No, that didn't feel right. No…he wasn't one of the bad guys…not really. He was…he was…an undercover cop…yeah, that was right…an undercover cop. Waiting for the top crook to show up. All he had to do was stay alive until the top guy showed up and then the cops waiting outside would rescue him.

No…no…that wasn't quite right either. Now he was watching the scene from a distance…watching himself…well, a younger version of himself…sprawled on the floor…trying to convince the bad guy not to kill him. What the bloody hell was going on here? Not only did he look ten year younger, he was talking with an American accent. He didn't…well there was that class at Oxford where he'd spent the whole term using an American accent on a bet. Won a hundred quid, he had.

Suddenly the chief hoodlum showed up, but instead of the cops breaking down the door, Cal found himself with a handgun pointed at his chest. His day just keep getting worse and worse. Confrontation…yelling…threats…then…

"Cut! Okay, guy, that was good. That's a wrap for today"

…Wha?

"Hey, somebody get the scrapper. Tim's stuck to the floor again. And the hose. It looks like Mike could use some help too."

* * *

Gillian was unprepared for the bundle of energy that bounced into the room next. Introducing herself as Annette, the surgeon's PA, she took over command of the room as if she were an arriving general. Damon stood at attention slightly behind her, answering her barked out questions. Gillian risked a glance at Emily, barely restraining her giggles. From her short, slender statue, whirlwind energy and apparent habit of bulldozing over anyone in her path, Annette greatly resembled the patient she was currently examining.

"Sounds decent," the woman pronounced as she moved her stethoscope over Cal's chest. "Incision looks good. Have you suctioned him this morning?"

"No, not yet."

"Why don't you do it now and see what we get?"

Apparently this was a different kind of suction than Damon had already done. Taking his place at the head of the bed, Damon began snaking a tube encased in plastic down the ventilator tube. "Cal? I'm gonna make you cough now. Can you give me a cough?"

Through his own will or a simple bodily reflex, Cal wheezed more than coughed in response, but Damon seemed please with his effort. "Good job, Cal."

Damon might be please but Gillian was not. More sickened by the amount of red coming up the tube.

"Is that blood?" Emily choked.

Annette answered briskly, "Yeah. We were hoping there wouldn't be any but with the amount of bruising in his lungs, it's not unexpected."

Gillian studied the PA's face, concern but not an untoward amount. "Bruising?"

"Blunt force trauma. He got walloped but good. The bruising by itself is not that big of a deal, but we have to make sure it doesn't turn into scarring."

"And how do you do that?"

"With a very delicate balancing act, I'm afraid. We can't just treat one injury and forget about everything else. His kidneys are holding their own, but the last thing we want to do is to stress them by giving him a lot of different fluids. And his liver is in none too good shape. Right now, I'd like to keep meds to the least possible and let his body heal on its own. Support him but keep the side effects to a minimum."

"So we wait?"

Gillian received a smart slap on the back. "Wait, monitor, support. And praying to the deity of your choice never hurt anything."

Not terribly comforted by the words, Gillian sighed.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Annette assured. "I've seen people with worse injuries recover completely. I think he will too. I make no guarantees but he's got a good shot. But it's not going to be easy or quick. Hang in there for him."

Emily drew herself up taller at Gillian's side. "No way will we give up on him."

* * *

Amazingly, around noon, Gillian found herself alone with Cal. All morning there had been a steady procession of nurses, techs and doctors in to poke, prod and listen to Cal. Now, as she looked around in a little shock, she realized no one else occupied the room. Just her and Cal. Even Emily had taken a break to go out and make some phone calls.

"Hey, Cal, looks like it's just you and me." She didn't anticipate a response and got none.

Rising from the chair, she stretched her legs and back, then leaned closer. "Do you know how much I love you?" she whispered. "No, you probably don't. Cause I never told you, did I? But I do, I love you so much it hurts."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Timing just never seemed right. You were married when we met. Even then I knew you'd never cheat on her. Once you commit yourself to something, you don't know how to give less than one hundred percent. By the time you and Zoe divorced, I was married. And you never would have respected, or completely trusted me, if I'd left Alec to throw myself at you." She chuckled softly. "But there were time I wanted to, believe me."

"So I had to try to make it work with Alec. And I did, Cal, really I did. I tried so hard. I drew a line between you and I, and worked at my marriage even when it was crumbling around me. So now I have a clear conscience. You weren't the one who broke up my marriage. Alec and I did that."

"So then we were both free. But I was still scared. Terrified really. What if you didn't feel the same way? Was I exciting enough to hold your interest or would you get bored with me in a few months? Would it fall apart the way it had with Alec? I couldn't bear if what we had turned into hate. Or indifference"

"But I never thought something like this would happen. I thought we had all the time in the world, to explore, to figure it all out. Everything I was so afraid of seems so stupid now." The tear from her cheek dropped onto Cal's bare shoulder. "I can't stand the thought that I'll never have the chance to say I love you and have you hear it. Even if you don't feel the same. I should have told you, Cal, and I'm sorry I never did."

She summoned up a smile. "And if…when you get out of here, I'm going to tell you so often you'll beg me to quit."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: **Not very long but I'm not sure which scene to have next so this seemed like a good stopping point. Thanks again for all the review. I haven't written any fanfiction for a couple of years, so its nice to know I'm still okay at it.

**Part 7**

Ria Torres approached the area indicated by the man at the tow yard's front desk with trepidation. She didn't really want to see…but there it was in front of them. A Honda Prius…that would never be driven again. In its present state it barely resembled a car.

"Holy shit," Reynolds whispered, then Loker added his, "Yowsa."

Mashed into a V shape, the major impact directly over the driver's side door, the car sagged pathetically on only two inflated tires. The passenger door hung loosely from its hinges. Every piece of metal crimped or bent in numerous variations, the Prius looked as if it had been through a demolition derby. Venturing closer, she realized the interior was even worse. Where the driver's seat should have been only twisted metal remained, the seat itself flopped over into the passenger area. How did he survive? Ria wondered to herself. She swiped at the tears that threatened.

"Well, let's see if there's anything here we can salvage," Reynolds nudged her toward the car. "Be careful. Don't cut yourselves."

Slowly, carefully they sifted through the wreckage. Contents of the glove compartment were shoved into the bag Ria had brought without sorting. This seemed like such an invasion of Lightman's privacy, none of them wanted to dig any deeper than they had to.

"Here's his glasses," Loker announced, holding up the heavy black frames. "Do you think he picked out this style because they make him look more like a mad scientist?"

"Loker!" Ria protested, though she couldn't conceal her own laugh.

Ben sniggered then turned serious, "There's nothing more in here worth taking. You sure he had his laptop with him?"

"Pretty sure. We searched the entire office and Dr. Foster said it wasn't at his house. It's gotta be here."

"OK, let's look in the trunk, then. Who's got the keys?"

Opening the trunk turned out to be easier said than done. Bent enough to twist the hinges, the trunk hindered all their efforts.

"I don't suppose either of you have a tire iron?"

Loker patted his pockets while Ria made a show of looking through her purse.

"Stop it," Ben ordered, then muttered. "Is a weird sense of humor a job requirement with you people?"

Loker smirked, "Ask a silly question…"

"And you're one of us now, remember?" Ria added.

Ben muttered, "Yeah, yeah." He stripped off his suit jacket despite the cold. "I'm sure the guy at the front will have something we can use."

Ria watched him trot off then turned back to Eli. "It's hard to…"

"I know. It makes it feel real. Last night, I just kept thinking…you know, even after seeing him in ICU…maybe this was just one of his stupid tests. See how the lab rats react…"

Ria nodded, in the office sometimes it was hard to tell if circumstances were real or just Lightman manipulating the world around him. At first it had annoyed the hell out of her, but she was starting to realize there was a method to his madness. Not that the man wasn't slightly insane, but there was always a goal, a truth at which he aimed them. She had become as fascinated by the man himself as by his science.

Ben reappeared with the appropriate tool and with some grunting and groaning soon had the trunk opened enough to see inside.

"Laptop!" Eli exclaimed in delight, then his grinned faded. "And groceries."

Pain clutched at Ria's chest. Groceries, such a mundane thing, a normal thing. Buy groceries, go home and cook for a teenage daughter. But that meal would never be cooked; the milk exploded out of its carton by the impact, fruit bruised and split open, and a solitary pint of ice cream unopened on top of the mess. A mundane thing for a far from ordinary man with a far from ordinary life. A life unexpectedly interrupted in a single second.

Ben grabbed the laptop bag out of the shambles. "Come on." His voice came out at a near whisper. "We got what we needed."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

"Okay if I come in?"

Gillian startled, realizing she'd been mesmerized by the minute changes in Cal's vital signs on the monitor again. It was as if she was connected to the machine herself and each visual change affected her own body.

She swiveled to find Ben Reynolds peeking his head around the door. "Sure, Ben, come on in."

"Hey, Ben," Emily greeted from her chair at the foot of the bed, where she distractedly flipped through the channels on the remote, her free hand resting on her father's uninjured foot.

"Emily." Ben nodded then turned back to Gillian, "How's he doing?"

"Okay, I guess. No changes, really," Gillian replied with a small shrug.

"Stable is good," Damon interjected. "This early in the game, stable is really good."

"Oh, this is Damon, Cal's nurse today. Damon, Ben. He works with us." The two men smiled politely at each other.

Ben winced as he approached Cal's bed. "God, I guess I should have expected…I don't know what to say. Or what to do."

"I know," Gillian agreed. She didn't like having to sit back and passively let things happen around her. It had to be hard for Ben, who was just as much a man of action as Cal, in his own way. "Right now all we can do is wait and hope."

"Well, not quite all." Ben handed her a plastic bag and a laptop case. "We got this stuff out of his car. I didn't know if you wanted to take a look at the laptop or if I should take it into the office and have Loker and Ria look at it. We put everything else we could find in the bag."

"His car…"

Ben shook his head. "Totalled. Ria called the insurance company and they were sending a claims adjustor to look at it. I got the local PD to send them a copy of the report and I told them to send one to your box at the office. Oh, and your house is secured. I got someone who'll keep an eye on things for you."

"Thanks, Ben. I'm so grateful…"

"Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for, right?"

Gillian had been aware for awhile now that Ben wouldn't have minded being more than her friend. In another time and another place, Gillian might have considered it. Ben was an attractive man, solid, steady and since his sojourn undercover, a play by the rules kind of guy. Not a man to cannonball into chaos. And on the days she was furious with Cal Lightman, the attraction of someone like Ben didn't escape her notice. But she couldn't do that to a man again. Make him forever take second place in her life and in her heart.

With just a touch of regret, she reached up to kiss his cheek. "You're a good man, Ben Reynolds."

Ben frowned, "Thanks, I think." He glanced down at his watch. "I gotta go. Have an appointment down at the blood bank. Let me know if there's anything else you need."

"Thanks, Ben." "Thanks, Ben." Emily echoed.

With Ben's departure, Gillian lowered herself back into her chair. Burrowing under Cal's lax hand, she laid her own on his thigh, his hand now resting on her wrist, the fingers naturally curling around it. If she kept her eyes on the TV, she could almost pretend they were just relaxing together. On his couch, watching a movie, not surrounded by machines that pumped, beeped, whirred and whooshed.

* * *

Even though his eyes wouldn't come open, Cal knew Gillian was nearby. The darkness wasn't as bad when she was close. He could hear her voice, though the words were garbled and distant. Feel her touch, different from the Others. They touched him and moved him but he could tell when it was her touch on his skin.

Shadowy images lurked in the darkness around him. They would wait for him until she left, then close in. Nightmares of things past and possibly of things to come. Nightmares he couldn't wake from. Until she touched him, talked to him. Even if he couldn't understand the words, her voice was enough to drive the images back.

He wanted to tell her how grateful he felt for her being there. Tell her how very much he loved her and always had. She was the steady presence in his life that kept him from shattering. The one he went to when the emptiness threatened to overwhelm him. He was parched earth and she, pure rain. Now he needed to give back to her.

Concentrating, he squeezed her wrist as hard as he could.

* * *

Gillian almost missed the twitch of fingers against her skin. Glancing up at Cal's face, she saw his eyes cracked barely open again. "Cal?" she said turning slowly so as not to dislodge his hand. There again the tiniest movement.

Damon approached the bed eagerly. "Is he responding?" At Gillian's hesitant nod, he put two of his fingers into Cal's other hand. "Cal, can you squeeze my fingers? "

Nothing. "Cal?" Damon called louder. "Can you squeeze my fingers, buddy?"

No twitch this time, but a slow deliberate curl around her wrist. Without warning, all of Gillian's hard fought control burst. She laid her head on Cal's chest and sobbed for the first time since the ordeal had begun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9**

The next two days passed much as the first. Doctors entered, listened, poked, looked and left again, without much new to say. Damon turned Cal every two hours to make sure no pressure points developed. The IV pump beeped when the current med finished as did the machine that dispensed his painkiller. Gillian and Emily learned to differentiate between them. Emily decided she preferred watching the judge shows over soap operas.

There were also slight improvements. A little more responsive, Cal moved his hands often, though not always responding to commands. He'd begun to open his eyes more fully when Damon turned him, but they still held no trace of Calness. The ventilator occasionally squawked when he took a deep breath on his own. The blood suctioned from his lungs was now more brownish than red. The respiratory tech turned down the oxygen percent to 45 and Cal seemed to be doing well with the change.

A physical therapist came in the afternoons to do some gentle exercises, trying to keep his muscles and tendons from losing too much range of motion. Emily had enjoyed helping Eva, and she continued to do the exercises with her father multiple times a day.

Gillian had Cal's laptop which was miraculously still working. Reading her email, reviewing some tape Ria had sent helped keep her distracted. Of course, her focus on work was poor to say the least, happily Ria and Eli had done most of the analysis on the tapes already. Tomorrow she would have to take a look at the work schedule and see how she could apportion out her and Cal's cases.

Emily kept a concerned eye on Gillian, after Wednesday's breakdown. After they'd returned to the house, they'd both done their share of crying. Gillian couldn't explain exactly why that moment had been her breaking point, except it had been a small bit of proof that Cal was still in there, still alive and fighting.

She and Emily took turns taking breaks to go to the restroom, make phone calls or just to stretch cramped legs. Gillian felt a little frumpy, dressed as she was in sweatpants and one of Cal's polo shirts. She wasn't used to being in public quite this underdressed, but she didn't want to waste any of the precious time she could be with Cal to go home and pack something of her own. Besides she didn't look out of place here, comfort took first place here not a style. She'd managed to comb her hair and brush her teeth and it was enough.

* * *

As they walked back to Gillian's car in the gathering gloom, Gillian tilted her head to better see the teen's face. "Em, everything alright?"

"How'll be back tonight." Emily whispered. "She left a message on my cell. She said she'd pick me up at home…dad's house about eight."

Oh, so Zoe was finally…Gillian took a deep breath to stop the tirade in her head. "Okay."

"What'm I gonna say? I'm not sure how I feel. Sad? Mad? How important am I…she calls me every night…but its not the same as her being here. I dunno what to say."

"Come here, sweetheart," Gillian pulled the distraught teen closer. "I don't have the answers to any of those questions."

Emily's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. "And I thought high-buck shrinks had all the answers."

Gillian denied gently. "A doctorate in psychology doesn't make me all-knowing. Look at your dad, he's got one too."

"His isn't the same as yours."

"No, its not. But being a psychologist doesn't mean laying out the answers on a silver platter. I can try to help you find your own answers but that's all I can do."

"Well I could use some help right now. I don't understand why mom does a lot of the stuff she does anymore. It's like she's playing some game but dad and I don't know the rules. Like she keeps a tally of points in her head…I don't know."

"Maybe you should ask her?"

"Yeah, right. She'll give me some lawyer-speak, which is a whole lot of words that end up not meaning much of anything. At least dad just tells me to bugger off if he doesn't want to tell me something."

"He doesn't." Gillian grinned. She'd heard Cal tell people to bugger off, but he'd never say that to his daughter.

"Well, not those words," the teen allowed, "but that's what it means." But Emily refused to be totally distracted, "I don't know how to really talk to her anymore. Oh, we can talk about school work, and have pretty neat discussion about things in the paper. But not about her. Or how what she does affects me." She tried a grin which failed miserable. "Maybe she's having mid-life crisis."

Gillian wanted desperately to help, but her own position was rather precarious. She remembered her own childhood, even when she'd needed someone outside the family to pay attention to her plight, she would have defended her father to her last breath if he was attacked.

"Emily," she brushed the teen's hair back off her face. "You're an honest person. So be honest with her. Tell her what you feel. Your mom may not even realize what she'd doing. A lot of times we just go through the day and do things and say things without even knowing how they impact other people. Tell her what you need."

"I suppose." Emily grimaced. "Think that'll work?"

"No guarantees. But you won't know until you try."

A bit of sullen teenager came out. "I don't want to stay at mom's house."

Gillian's breath whooshed out. She hadn't seen that ramification of Zoe's return. She didn't want to leave Cal's house either, but without Emily there she had no excuse to stay.

"Talk to her and see what you can work out. Negotiations usually work better than ultimatums."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look, why don't we stop at a restaurant and get something to eat. I don't feel like cooking or cleaning up afterward. I sure you don't either. We'll still be home in plenty of time to meet your mom."

"Okay, sounds good. How about Chinese?"

"Chinese it is."

* * *

The darkness held shadows, noises he didn't understand…and it hurt! Distant before, now the pain crept into his awareness, stalked him. He tried to shift, to move away from the pain, but nothing he did improved the sensations. Gillian might have been able to help, when she was here it hadn't hurt so bad, but she'd left. Left him alone. And scared.

Not only Gillian, but Emily had abandoned him to the menacing darkness. He didn't blame her for leaving…he would give anything to protect his Em. Gillian told him he need to start letting go a little, not be so shielding. But what father could stand by and let the liars, thieves and con-men of the world take advantage of his child.

What if someone had taken them? That didn't seem quite right, but he couldn't steer his pain drenched brain away from the notion. They could be hostages somewhere…in danger…waiting for someone…him…to find them…help them. He had to help them.

* * *

Curled up on the couch, with her own and Emily's feet under her butt, Gillian gazed unseeing at the television screen. With a schoolbook book propped in her lap, Emily was equally unfocussed. They waited, with a bit of dread on both their parts, for the doorbell to ring.

Finally at twenty after eight, it rang. Emily pulled her feet reluctantly from their warm haven and stood up.

"I'll get my stuff."

With a nod, Gillian rose to answer the door.

"Hello, Zoe." She greeted the tall, exotic beauty on the step. "Emily will be down in a minute."

"Gillian," Cal's ex-wife nodded. Gillian stepped aside to let her in. "How is…is Cal…is Cal okay?"

"Okay isn't a word I'd use now, no." Gillian sighed. "He seems to be doing a little better."

"But he'll…be fine...right?"

Gillian bit down on her bitter amusement. Zoe was so rarely at a loss for words. "Zoe, he's in critical condition, on a ventilator in Intensive Care. They don't do that for just a scraped knee, you know."

"I know that," Zoe snarled.

"Well, if you did…" Gillian deliberately took a step back. "I don't want to fight with you. Not now. There's nothing to be won here."

For a second, Zoe looked like she'd continue, but then shook her head. "You're right again, fair Gillian. But there will be a time…"

Hanging her head in frustration, Gillian let out a sound that was neither laugh or cry. "There's no competition, Zoe. Right now, there's only what's good for Cal. And Emily."

Hearing her name, Emily appeared around the corner, her backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hi, mom. Don't start anything, okay?"

"Are you two ganging up on me now?" Zoe sneered.

"Can we just go, mom? I got some things I want to talk about, but I don't think Gillian deserves to be dragged into it."

"Fine!"

Gillian's cell phone trilled. Pulling it from her pocket and flicking it open, she saw a number she dreaded. "Gillian Foster. Yes." She listened carefully, her hand creeping up into her hair. "Oh, no…yes, I understand…we'll be right there."

"Gill, what?" Emily demanded.

"Your dad…" Gillian twisted her shaking hand together. "Your dad pulled out the ventilator tube."

Emily moaned, "Shit!"

"My car's outside, its already warm." Zoe grabbed two coats off the rack and stuffed them into shocked arms. "I'll drive."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10**

As soon as they rushed into the ICU, they found themselves herded into an empty room. "He's fine," an unfamiliar doctor kept assuring them. "Really, he's fine now."

"Is that his blood?" Emily pointed a shaking hand at the doctor's lab coat, the white material now liberally spotted with red.

The doctor glanced down with a sheepish grin, "No, I'm afraid that's mine." He touched his nose gingerly. "I got tagged with a flying elbow in the tussle. Not sure who's elbow either."

"Tussle? What tussle?" Zoe demanded. "I want to know what happened! What kind of hospital is this?"

A micro-expression of anger. "At the start of the shift, we decided to try turning down his sedation," the doctor began only to be cut off by Zoe again.

"Why do that? And why weren't we informed?"

"Using the minimum amount of sedation possible is always in the patient's best interest."

Tiny Missy, who'd been Cal's nurse the first night, stepped forward. "I stayed with him for most of an hour, but I had to go start meds on my other patient." She brushed a tear from her eye. "He seemed to be resting comfortably, so I didn't ask anyone else to watch him."

"So you screwed up," Zoe accused.

"I'm sorry," the young woman implored Gillian, her voice breaking. "He didn't look like he was nearly awake enough to pull out the tube. He hadn't even tried to touch it before. I'm so sorry."

"Sure you're sorry…"

Fury drove Gillian forward. "Zoe." She forcibly pulled the taller woman away from the defensive medical team. "Back off. Right now. Or I'm going to ask you to leave."

"Leave?" Zoe raised her brows in astonishment. "Who made you God? You have no right to ask me to leave."

"Oh, but I do." Gillian answered, a low and dangerous growl. "I can keep you out of his room and I can keep them from telling you any of his medical information."

Zoe gaped. "There's no way…I'm his wife…"

"Ex-wife. You gave up any rights to Cal when you divorced him. You don't even own any of the Lightman Group anymore." For this one moment, Gillian rejoiced that Cal had bought Zoe out and the woman no longer had any piece of Cal, except as the mother of his beloved daughter.

"Well, what about you, Miss Too Good To Be True? What gives you any rights here? You're not family. You're not even…"

Gillian tried to keep the smugness off her face and out of her voice. "I have full power of attorney."

"What?! But that's just the business."

"No, Zoe, **full** power of attorney, signed more than six months ago. I'm empowered to make any decision in Cal's stead. **Any** decision." Gillian stepped into the taller woman's personal space. "That means I can kick you out of here if I want. I don't even need a reason."

"You wouldn't." Zoe tried, her bluster faltering. "You don't have the balls."

"I'm not so sure, Zoe." Every ounce of her disdain for this woman showed in her smile. "Do you really want to try and find out?

No? Then if you want to stay, I suggest you shut up and let me find out what happened to Cal."

Without waiting for an answer Gillian turned briskly back to the stunned medical personnel. As she stepped back Emily, she heard the teen whisper, "Go, Gill!" Suppressing a smile, she asked as calmly as she could, "So, who can tell me the whole story from the beginning."

"Umm…well…as I was saying…well, we lowered his sedation…and he woke up more than we expected. He pulled out the ventilator tube when Missy was out of the room."

"And then?"

"The ventilator alarm went off, so it was only a minute or two before we arrived. We tried to reintubate him, but he was very combative. And quite strong, I have to say. We didn't want to aggravate any of this other injuries fighting with him, so we decided to do an emergency tracheotomy."

"You cut him…" Zoe subsided at Gillian's warning stare.

"Is that dangerous for Cal? The tracheotomy?" Gillian wanted to know.

"Not really any more so than translaryngeal intubation, the tube going through his mouth. Oh, he'll have a permanent scar, in a fairly noticeable place. And as with any open incision there's a chance for bleeding and infection. Most of the other problems you have with a trach you'll also have with the translaryngeal, such as possibility of damage to the esophagus and vocal chords. With the trach we do eliminate any possible erosion and damage to his mouth. There are studies that weaning off the ventilator is actually easier with a trach. Some researchers advise doing with more than three days of intubation."

"Was that a consideration with Cal before?"

"Well, we usually do a trach in the operating room and in his condition sending him back to surgery again wasn't an optimal choice. But now except for the fact that he's such a fighter, we're not terribly unhappy with the outcome."

"You mentioned his other injuries. He didn't…"

"Not that we can tell. A couple of the surgical staples tore a tiny bit, but not enough to even consider replacing them. We turned his sedation back up, of course, and his blood pressure and heart rate went back down to his normal. We've ordered a chest x-ray to make sure he didn't dislodge any of the other tubes, they should be up any minute."

Emily pushed close under her arm. "Can we see him now?"

"Sure. You may even like the improved view."

As they entered Cal's room, Gillian caught a sob in the back of her throat. "Oh, look, Emily."

The teen rushed forward, a beaming grin on her face. "You can see his whole face."

Without the obstructing tubes and headgear, Cal's entire face was indeed visible. The tubes now disappeared into an incision in the base of his throat. Indentations from the headgear were still visible on his upper lip and chin.

Emily plopped a kiss on her dad's stubbled cheek. "Yeah, I like this much better, dad."

Gillian wholeheartedly agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part 11**

Gillian settled down onto Cal's couch, completely alone now for the first time in days. And she let herself cry. No sobs, just quiet tears of exhaustion and strain, tears for Cal, for Emily and for herself. Tears for waiting tensely with no end in sight. Tears for missing Cal terribly, even though she spent hours with him every day. Tears because right here and right now, she didn't have to be strong, not for herself or anyone else.

Slowly the tears dried, leaving her with sore eyes and a clearer mind. One way or another, in the past few days, Gillian's frame of reference had shifted. No longer just Gillian watching Cal struggling to heal, they had somehow become _us_ in her mind. _We, _as in we will get through this. As a teen, she'd been a little disdainful of her Aunt Mary, who'd never used the singular in referring to either herself or Uncle Bud. It had always been we or us. The fact they were married hadn't made them a single person, she'd scoffed. She'd never felt or wanted that kind of relationship with Alec. Or understood it, until now.

It wasn't dependence, not really. Gillian knew herself to be a strong, capable woman. She'd taken life's hard knocks and hadn't yet let them break her. It was more a blending of abilities and strengths, weaknesses and failings to become more together than they could be apart. They each had their roles, but she felt united in striving for the goal. He had been her rock to cling to in bad weather. So she had been and would continue to be his. Her part now included consulting with the doctors, making decisions he couldn't, looking out for the people he loved, all in a way she hoped he would have approved. His part included healing a little more each day. What he needed or would have wanted had become what she needed.

But how would she cope if Cal couldn't do his part? Lurching up off the couch, she shuffled into the kitchen. She shoved a cup of water in the microwave and pulled a tin of herbal tea from the cupboard. She thought about a mind trick her Grandmother Al had taught her. Instead of fretting about an unpleasant circumstances, look at the worst that could happen, analyze it, decide a rational course of action and then let it go.

So…the worst that could happen…Cal would die. No that wasn't really the worst, was it? No, the worst would be that Cal had brain damage severe enough to leave him in a vegetative state. But she knew his feeling on that. When they had prepared the power of attorney for each other, they had both done medical directives. She knew what he wanted but could she do it? Yes, she was strong enough to let him go, to set him free. No one wanted to make a decision like that, but she could if she had to.

But the doctors said the chance of that was becoming vanishingly remote. So far, he'd shown no signs of brain damage. So the next worse, he succumbed to one of the hundreds of possible complications. Even the thought of it left Gillian empty. But she would somehow survive. She might never completely heal, but she would still have the memories of them together. Tears and regrets and memories.

What if he healed but wanted no part of a more intimate relationship with her? Could she settle for what they had right now? If she had to, she decided. After all, hadn't the last fifteen years shown her that just being Cal's partner and best friend could make her incredible happy? And angry and thrilled, and frustrated and delighted. Also she wasn't completely in the dark about Cal's feeling for her. Since her divorce, subtle and not so subtle changes appeared in their outward expression. Hugs and touches had always been part of their rapport, but now the hugs were tighter, the touches becoming more caresses and the kisses straying closer to mouths. She caught him checking her out more than once and sometime he didn't even try to hide it. She felt he'd been testing the water, biding his time, until she, so fresh from a divorce, was ready to make the next step.

What if they took that next step and totally mucked it up? God knew, their first attempts at marriage were total disasters. Could she live with a man who saw every reaction, who would leave her no secrets? In the past, they'd been able to compromise and find rules they both could live with. Could they do the same thing in a more intimate connection? Would the risks be worth the possible reward?

The doorbell interrupted her musing. Who could be at the door at…she glanced at the clock…eleven o'clock at night? Gillian could think of only one person…ohh, no.

Opening the door, she greeted, "Hello, Zoe. What do you want?"

Zoe raised her hands. "I'm not here to fight. In fact, I owe you an apology. Can I come in?"

Gillian's mouth gaped open and she shut it with an effort. "I guess." She stood back from the entrance.

Taking a few steps into the living room, Zoe stopped, her back still to the door. "I was out of line in the hospital. I'm sorry. You had enough to worry about without me…" She turned to face Gillian. I'm sorry."

No words came to Gillian.

"I know," the corner of the woman's mouth curled up slightly. "You've probably never heard those words from my mouth before." She gestured at the couch. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure." Gillian grabbed Zoe's coat to have something to do in her confusion. Back in the living room, she sank into Cal's favorite recliner.

"I want to thank you for looking after Emily so well, too. "

Gill's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. "She's a good kid."

"The best," Zoe agreed. "We had a really good talk tonight, Emily and I. About a lot of things. One of the things is why I couldn't be there for her after the accident. I think I'd like you to know, too."

"You care what I think?" Gillian was still mystified.

"For some reason I find that I do." Zoe shrugged "Maybe the future will be easier if we're not at each other's throats all the time. Did Cal ever tell you about my father?"

"Just that he'd died when you were a teenager."

"Yeah," Zoe's features tightened. "In fact, I was about Emily's age right now when he was diagnosed. Leukemia."

"Oh, no," Gillian winced.

"Two years it took that damned disease to kill him. Chemo the first five months. In and out of the hospital, mostly in. They got him in remission. Six months, time enough that we thought maybe he'd really beaten it. Then he relapsed. More hospital stays, more chemo. Another remission but shorter this time. Finally he got pneumonia and he didn't have anything left to fight it."

Moving to the couch, Gillian touched the other woman's wrist. "I'm so sorry."

"I hate hospitals!" Zoe hissed. "I can't go in there and spend hours with Cal like that. I just can't."

"It's okay. I understand. Cal would too."

Brushing angrily at her tears, Zoe shook her head. "Maybe that's why I couldn't love Cal the way he deserved. I could never go through that again, not for anybody. Perhaps that makes me a coward but I couldn't do it again without breaking."

No words could help, so Gillian offered what physical comfort she could. Zoe allowed the hug for a few moments, then retreated.

"I should be going," she stood. "I'll drop Emily off at the hospital in the morning, if you can drop her off on your way back."

"Sure," Gillian agreed.

"I want her back in school on Monday, though. I don't want her getting too far behind. She can drive over to the hospital herself if she wants."

"Thank you, Zoe."

"Don't thank me." The taller woman shrugged. "You know I couldn't keep her away, even if I wanted to."

"No, I mean…"

Zoe cut her off, "Yeah." Then her smile softened and for a moment Gillian could see why Cal fell in love with her. "Keep me informed, okay. I still care about him."

"I will. You have the number at the hospital, right? You can call anytime."

"Take good care of him."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's notes: Thank you again for all the reviews. I really do appreciate everyone who's taken the time to leave one.

The parts in italics are Gillian reading Cal's expressions and a brief flashback.

**Part 12**

Saturday found Gillian back at Cal's bedside beginning what had become her morning routine. Glancing up at the monitor, she reviewed the numbers and nodded in satisfaction. She hung her coat in the closet, commandeered the rolling table, then started Cal's laptop booting up. She walked over to the thermometer in its holder on the wall and hit the recall button. 99.2, a little high but not enough to call a fever. Another glance took in the numbers on the white board. Cal's weight was down more this morning. He'd lost more than five pounds in less than a week, not good but could be worse. Her fears allayed for the moment, she moved to the bed to greet Cal.

"Morning, sunshine," she kissed his forehead.

She gasped when his head turned toward her and his eyes opened. A groggy and doped to the gills Cal looked out.

Oh, my," she patted her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. "Hey, Cal."

His lips moved as he tried to respond, "Hey."

"I'm so glad to see you. How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?"

_Hurts._

"You're getting quite a bit a pain meds, but I'll talk to the staff and see if we can do something about that. Do you know who I am?"

_Are you kidding?_

"Yeah, I guess you do. Do you know where you are?

_Confusion._

She grasped his vaguely wandering hand. "You're in the hospital. You were in a bad car accident and you're in intensive care right now."

_I don't remember._

"That's okay. You don't need to remember. No, don't touch that."

_What is it?_

"You're on a ventilator, Cal. The machine is doing most of your breathing for you."

_Fear._

"Relax, it'll be okay. It's only until you heal some more."

_Am I?_

"Yes, you're getting better every day."

_Trust_.

"I'll do my best to live up to that trust. Getting sleepy again?"

_I don't know why, but I am._

"It's alright, love. Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up again."

_Love._

"You do that very well," Gillian turned to find the surgeon's PA had entered the room while she was talking with Cal. "Read his expressions. You've been together for a long time?"

"About fifteen years," Gillian grinned. "But that's what we do for a living. Read expressions."

"What kind of job is that?" Eyebrows raised.

"Dr. Cal Lightman is the foremost scientist in the field of deception detection in the world today. I'm a distant second." Gillian answered with not a little pride in her voice.

"Deception detection? So you can tell if someone's lying? You mean like using a polygraph." Annette was intrigued.

"Oh, no," Emily joined the conversation. "Hi, Gill."

"He's awake," Gill informed the teen.

"Really?" she bounced up to the head of the bed. "Hey, dad."

Slowly opening his eyes, Cal focused on his daughter's grinning face. A slight smile curled his lips then he mouthed "Em". His eyes slide closed again.

"That was cool," she beamed, then picked up the interrupted conversation. "My dad's better than any old polygraph. Lots of people can beat polygraphs. My dad, a fifth of a second expression on your face, and he's got you nailed. Gillian's almost as good. Or bad, depending if you're inside or outside the Cube. She's a lot more subtle, she doesn't get all up in your face like dad does."

"That must be fun for you," Annette empathized with the teenager.

"Oh, yeah, it's a…blast. You should try it sometime. Oh, you probably will when he wakes up more."

"I'll tell the staff to be exquisitely truthful to you people." The PA grimaced. "Not that we lie a lot anyway."

"We appreciate candor." Gillian emphasized.

"I'll remember that. So how's he doing today? I heard he puts up quite a fight for a scientist."

* * *

"Hey, Gill, can I ask you something?" Emily flopped her book down on the ledge, tired of doing schoolwork.

"Sure. I can't guarantee I'll answer."

"How did you and dad meet?"

Gillian swiveled in surprise. "Your dad never told you?"

The teen gave her a coy look. "Yeah, he did. I just wanted to see if his story is the same as your story."

"Oh, I see," she chuckled. "Well, sure, it's no big secret. Did he tell you he scared the hell out of me?"

"Dad can be pretty scary when he wants to be." Emily's eyes lost focus. "He only really screamed at me once. I think I was seven or eight. He caught me trying to jump off the roof in my Superman cape."

"Oh, no," Gillian moaned. "He probably only screamed because you scared him so bad."

"Yeah, I figured that out later. But right then…I peed my pants…literally."

"Oh, sweetheart."

"Not my best memory. But we all calmed down, I apologized then he apologized. It turned out pretty good. But I know how scary he can be." She settled on the floor at Gillian's feet. "So give me the whole scoop."

Gillian grinned. "Well, I had just submitted my dissertation. Besides doing clinical work I was teaching some classes at the university…

_The kid in the back of the room was staring at her again. In fact, he hadn't stopped since he'd flopped down in the chair in the back corner. Early to mid-twenties, good looking in a rough kind of way, he wore a battered leather jacket over a white wifebeater. His denim-clad legs stretched so far out in front of him, he looked as if he'd slip from the seat at any second. Blonde or light brown hair, depending how the lights caught it, parted in the middle, hung long enough to brush his eyebrows. He didn't fit in with the rest of the collegiate boys and girls. A bad boy from the wrong part of town invading her psychology class room._

_Not that she didn't have the occasional outiers in her class. The loners, the nerds, the rough kids, but this kid was different. He reeked of arrogance, the arrogance of a large jungle cat amongst a herd of unsuspecting antelope. With her as his chosen prey. The entire class time he stared, sparing her only a few seconds when he might glance at another student who had a question or answer. Not the usual ogling she'd learned to endure. Not undressing her with his eyes, his stare stayed glued to her face. He turned with her every move, head bobbing and twisting to keep eye contact. Intense was too mild to describe it. His gaze left her feeling stripped to the bone, naked emotionally and mentally, her every thought and feeling revealed to his knowing eyes. She glared back but it only seemed to amuse him. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, the class ended. She breathed a sigh of relief as the boys and girls filed out of the room. But that sigh caught in her throat as she realized he wasn't leaving. In fact, he sauntered up to her desk. And appeared to have no concept of personal space as he didn't stop until he was bare inches away. Gillian would have stepped back if she hadn't already been pressed against her desk._

_Up this close, she saw he wasn't nearly as young as she'd first thought. Early thirties, even, fine lines just beginning to form around bright, intelligent eyes._

"_I'm Cal Lightman," he introduced himself in a surprisingly thick English accent. "I read your dissertation. I think you should come to Morocco with me."_

"He didn't!" Emily whooped in laughter.

"He did!" Gillian affirmed, holding her thumb and forefinger a miniscule distance apart. "I was this close to calling security."

"Well, did you go? To Morocco?" Emily twisted her head to better see Gillian's expression, too much like her father for her own good. "You did! You did go to Morocco with him!"

Gill smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, eventually he wore me down and I did go. There were six of us. Your dad called us the Diogenes Project." Seeing the teen's confused look, she explained, "After the Greek philosopher who would shine a lamp into people's faces looking for an honest man."

"I knew there was more than dad said."

Gillian felt the flex of fingers around her wrist. "I think he might be waking up again."


	13. Chapter 13

Author's note: Sorry its been so long since I updated. Just not a good weekend for writing.

**Part 13**

Time no longer had any bearing on Cal Lightman. Yesterday, last week, tomorrow, these concepts were meaningless. But as he listened to Gillian's voice, he did remember the day they met. He hadn't meant to scare her, or even intimidate her. He had needed to know that the person in front of the class was the right person to invite on his research trip.

He remembered seeing her for the first time. He'd already read her dissertation, which is what had pushed him toward making her an offer. He thought having her mentor set up an appointment, then he'd found out she was teaching that day in that very building. Why be making appointments when he could just toddle over and get glimpse without her knowing who he was.

Struck by her physical beauty as soon as he'd entered the room, he was a trifle disappointed. Every hair in place, perfect make-up and form hugging clothes, he couldn't imagine her being the type who'd enjoying living out of a backpack for six months in mountains where the only running water was an ice cold stream.

Not that he enjoyed roughing it all that much himself. He much preferred a luxury hotel with room-service over mountainous altitude that turned him into a mess of sunburn and freckles. But there was something about the experience that drew him, that made all the hardships trivial. The universality of expression, emotion, the very heart of his craft, connected him to mankind, when he often felt himself disconnected and alone.

Watching for that hour as she'd taught made him doubt his initial judgment. The spark was there, the enthusiasm, the drive to discover, to know. She might not enjoy some of the physical aspects of the trip but she'd do just fine.

She didn't prove him wrong either. She'd been a trooper, only rarely bitching in private, never in front of the Berbers. Her natural friendliness softening some of his natural aggression. Those six months in the Atlas Mountains had built a bond of intellect, a balance of viewpoints, a meshing of personality and the beginning of a deep friendship.

He hoped some day there would be more. In the mountains, he'd banished all such thoughts. Then it couldn't be. But now? Maybe…

* * *

That afternoon a whole band of doctors invaded their room. Gillian knew most of them, Dr. Slaungard the surgeon, Dr. Miller from Respiratory, Dr. Claudio, the ICU doctor, and a fourth she'd never met. She watched and waited while each in turn listened to Cal's chest and belly then as a group quietly spoke medicaleese at each other. She purposely blanked all thoughts from her mind. Just wait…

"Well, Gillian," Dr. Claudio, a tall, slender balding man, finally addressed her. "You are probably wondering what we are mumbling about over here."

She couldn't keep the anxiety from her smile. "Is it something I want to hear?"

His head rocked back and forth. "Possibly. We would like to start doing pressure support trials."

"And that means?"

"Turn off the machine and see how well he breaths on his own."

"That'd be good, right?" she asked with tentative excitement.

"We do have some major concern, so, as you see, the conference."

"What concerns?"

"Well, there was last night's melee. We may like to see a combative spirit, but to have it present itself as full contact wrestling is not so good. For him or my staff." He returned Gillian's slight grin. "Seriously, it is dangerous from him to struggle so. The repairs are fragile still. The pelvic fractures alone could cause internal bleeding or nerve damage if shifted too much."

"He was awake for a few minutes a couple of times today and seemed calm." She offered.

"This is good. We did turn his sedation down just a little this morning. I am glad to hear he is wakening. But to do the pressure support trial he must be almost fully awake. The Propofol, the drug we're using to sedate him, also suppresses the urge to breath. So we must turn down the drug until he can hear and understand what is happening. So you can see the concern? We have tried to turn down the drug and he fights. Even now his blood pressure is higher than we would like. Why we are not sure. Anxiety? Pain? He should not be in pain."

"But when he was awake this morning, when I asked him if he was comfortable, he said it hurts."

The doctor frowned, "Truly? The fentanyl, the painkiller, is already as a fairly high dose. Did he, by chance, indicate where the pain originated?"

"No," she answered, disappointed in herself for not asking.

"Hmmm, this is not so good. Does he happen to be sensitive to pain, that you know?"

"No, not at all," Gillian responded, remember watching Cal pulling himself from a prison floor, fresh from getting the crap kicked out of him, with a maniacal grin on his bloodied face.

"Pain could explain his reaction to waking up." He gestured to his fellow doctors "Friends, what tests should we order to determine why this good man is in pain?"

* * *

Gillian leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Picking out micro-expressions on the big screens in her office and the lab couldn't be compared to trying to do the same on a laptop. She was missing something, she was sure of it. The expressions didn't match with the verbal cues but she just couldn't pinpoint how. She clicked play again.

A tap on her wrist broke her focus. Looking up, she found Cal's green eyes on her again.

"Hey, sleepyhead. You need something?"

Opening his mouth, he extended his parched tongue.

"Oh, yeah, that doesn't look good." Gillian looked over to today's nurse, an older man with pure gray hair. "Steve, his tongue looks really dry. Is there something I can do?"

Typing commands into his own computer, Steve answered. "Yeah, I think we can. Let me check his orders just to be sure. Just what I thought, he can't drink anything yet, but we can help to wet his whistle, so to speak."

Steve strolled over to the supply draw and drew out a handful of the familiar green sponges on a stick. Going into the bathroom, he filled a cup with water. "Here ya go. Don't give him too much at a time." He addressed Cal. "No swallowing."

Upper lip rising in a snarl, Cal reluctantly nodded.

"Just wet it down and stick it in," Steve instructed Gillian with a twinkle. "He'll make sure it gets in the right spot."

Soaking the sponge in the cup of water, Gillian laid it on Cal's tongue. Greedily, he sucked it in, pure bliss on his face. She could stop her grin. Cal had always been very…oral. Anything in his hands, pencils, laser pointers, his glasses, inevitably ended up in his mouth. Lacking an object, the sides of his fingers substituted. It wasn't at all unusual for him to have nicks on his fingers from being chewed on.

"More?"

Rolling his eyes, his tongue extended again.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's note: Sorry again for the wait. I've been fighting with a migraine all week and haven't been able to do much of anything much less write. Hopefully will be back in the saddle next week.

**Part 14**

Cal opened his eyes slowly, feeling more awake than he'd felt…well, there seemed like there'd been a time when he hadn't been really awake at all but he couldn't recall it at the moment. No matter, not when Gillian's beautiful face hovered right over his. For a moment he marveled at her beauty, the perfectly blue eyes, wonderfully shaped lips, the dusting of freckles across cheekbones. The smile he loved so much. He wanted to kiss those smiling lips but his head resisted his efforts at raising it. He wanted to tell her how wonderful he thought she was, how thankful he was that she was in his life, but found nothing but air coming from his mouth. Well, that's annoying. Before his frustration grew, he realized she wanted him to do something for her.

"Breathe, Cal. Slow, deep breaths. I know you can do it," she urged. "Slow and deep."

Okay, that didn't seem too difficult. Anything to please Gillian. He drew in air, as deep as he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest as he got to full inhalation. He let the breath out as slowly as he could.

"That's it. Good job, Cal. Keep it up and we'll get you off this damned machine."

With the incentive not only of please Gillian but getting the tube out of his throat, he tried to match his breathing to hers. In, two, three, four. Out, two three, four. He didn't recall that breathing had been this difficult before. Most of the time, you didn't really think about breathing, did you? You just did it. Why did he have to work so hard at it now?

"Relax," Gill coaxed. "Just breathe, deep and slow. You were in a car accident, remember? You've got to work at getting better."

Car accident? No, he didn't remember that at all. He'd been in the office…and then…then he had a few very hazy memories of Gill talking to him, holding his hand and not much else. But Gill said he had to get better, so he had no other choice than to try his hardest. So breathing was the order of the day. In, two, three, four. Out, two three four.

A deep male voice came from over his shoulder, "Volume's over a thousand and his sats are holding up. Doing good."

Cal thought for a moment to see who this new voice belonged to, but he didn't want to lose eye contact with Gillian. He liked pleasing her, liked happy Gillian. She'd been sad Gillian when she'd been with that wanker Alec. Especially after she'd lost Sophie. Call had hurt with her, but he hadn't known what to do to help, to make her happy again. Not that he'd never made her sad Gillian himself. He couldn't quite remember why now, but he knew he'd gotten scared and had hurt Gillian. Oh, yeah, breathe. For some reason, him simply breathing in and out made her smile now. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

"You're doing great, Cal. Just keep it up, okay."

Okay, breathing. He tried to relax, to focus on Gill's face and nothing else, but the pain built in his chest and belly. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. He could feel the rhythm want to change, want to get shallower, faster. He resisted. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. He tried to ignore the pain, he'd disregarded pain before, he could do it again. But it was getting harder with each breath. He looked to Gillian with mute appeal.

"Cal, where does it hurt?" Gillian interpreted his expression. Her hand gently caressed the center of his chest. "Here?"

He nodded slightly. Yes, it does hurt there, but that's not the worst.

Her hand slid lower to his belly. "Here?"

He moved his head as hard as he could. Yes, there. Something inside his belly burned. In fact, he was starting to feel very warm all over. Breath, two, three, four.

"He's starting to breathe too fast," the male voice came again. "And his blood pressure is going up again. I'm going to turn the ventilator back on again and turn up his sedation."

Cal reached up his hand, anxious that he'd failed Gillian again.

"It's okay. You did good, Cal." Gillian reassured him. "It's hard work, I know. Next time, you'll do even better."

Relieved, he let himself float off into the dark again.

* * *

"He did pretty good for his first time," Steve reassured Gillian. "Almost two hours. His volume and rate were good right up until the last few minutes."

"He's got pain in his abdomen," she considered. "Shouldn't the pain meds be taking care of that?"

Steve frowned thoughtfully. "I would have thought so, but he does have a couple fewer organs in there than he's used to." He grabbed the stethoscope off the IV pole. "Doesn't sound like there's much going on in there, but he hasn't had anything in his stomach for nearly a week. Does he feel warm to you? I'm gonna take his temperature."

Yes, he definitely felt too warm to Gillian. His blood pressure was gradually ticking down, with the sedation turned on again. Something was not right, something more than his known injuries.

"101.2. You've earned yourself some Tylenol, young man," he informed Cal's sleeping face. He turned to Gillian. "And you get to witness the fever protocol for the first time."

"What does that comprise?"

Walking over to his computer, Steve quickly clicked and typed. "Blood cultures, throat culture, urine culture. Cultures of anywhere an infection might be forming. Of course, in his condition, a fever might not be indicative of an infection. Might just be a reaction to all the trauma. But better to run through the protocol and find nothing than wait. He's very vulnerable to infections right now."

With a sigh, Gillian slumped in her chair. One more thing to worry about, she thought as she absently traced the tattoo on Cal's inner forearm. If he did have an infection, perhaps that is what is causing the pain and they'll kill two birds with one stone. Dear god, doesn't he have enough wrong with him, without throwing something new into the mix?


	15. Chapter 15

Author's note: Thanks for everyone's kind concern. I'm feeling much better now. So on with the story.

**Part 15**

Gillian managed to smile when Emily entered later that morning to controlled chaos. Lab techs and IV therapy staff scooted busily around the room getting the necessary samples from Cal.

"Good morning."

"Morning," the teen returned with a frown. "What's going on?"

"Your dad spiked a fever this morning. They're doing cultures to see if they can identify any infection."

Horror in her eyes, Emily grabbed Gillian's arm. "Infection? Oh, no…Gill…I though he was doing so good…" She continued in a hoarse whisper, "He could still die, couldn't he?"

Gillian's mouth dropped open. How could she confirm something she denied to herself with all her might?

"Yes, he could," Steve, the nurse, took the burden from her shoulders. "He's critically injured and a serious complication could kill him." He moved so he could look directly at the two women. "But the odds are on his side now. Don't give up on him."

Emily scowled in determination, "No way am I giving up on him. Right, Gill? Neither one of us."

"Right," Gillian affirmed.

Steve gave a sharp nod. "Good. He's overcome major hurdles to get this far. He's strong and he's a fighter. Even if there is an infection, we've got a lot of weapons to help him. He's got a really good chance to walk out of here on his own two feet."

Steve gave a gruff chuckle. "Give the man some credit. He just spent two hours breathing entirely on his own."

"He did?" Emily's early unshed tears made her eyes sparkle. "Gill, did he?"

"Yeah, he did," she smiled in return, deciding not to tell the teen about her father's pain. "He was pretty awake, too."

"And as soon as the vampires stop poking him, I can turn the sedation down a little bit." Steve offered. "Let you say a proper hello to your dad."

"That'd be great!" Emily beamed.

True to his word, as soon as the techs cleared the room, Steve adjusted Cal's sedation again. Just enough to let him wake up and communicate, but not enough, hopefully, for the pain to return. Leaning back, Gillian quietly watched Cal and his daughter communing silently. Well, silently on Cal's part. Talking a mile a minute, Emily chatted about her day, school and friends, all the while clutching her father's hand against her cheek.

"Rick said he'd come up and visit but I told him to wait until you were feeling better, okay? He's been really good to me since the accident. I know you pretend to not like any boy I go out with, but if you give him a chance I think you'll like Rick."

Cal grimaced, _Not a chance_.

"Really, dad. He's a little nerdy. He _likes_ to study, says he's gonna be a scientist or engineer."

Cal's eyebrow lifted through the beads of sweat starting to materialize on his forehead. _Well, maybe_.

"I think his fever's starting to break." Gillian smiled. "Why don't you get a washcloth and wet it down? A little wash down would probably feel good."

* * *

Eli Loker reversed the video tape for the umpteen time and watched it again. And he saw the same thing he'd seen every other time he'd watched it. Deception. But what was he going to do about it?

"I don't know how they do it," he muttered.

What are you moaning about over there?" Ria Torres tilted back in her chair, giving Loker an upside down view.

"I hate making these kind of decisions," he grumbled. "Lightman and Foster make it look so easy. Oi, lying son of a bitch, send him to jail."

Ria giggled at his mediocre impersonation of Lightman. "It's not so easy when you're the one who has to pull the trigger, is it? But then it wasn't so hard for you when you sent whatshername to prison."

Eli flushed, partly in anger and partly in embarrassment. He wasn't terribly proud of how he'd handled that situation. Still satisfied with the end results, he realized the way he'd resolved his conflict left much to be desired. And the weeks he'd spent terrified he'd be caught, when Lightman had let him stew in his own consequences, had been the worst weeks of his life.

He'd also made the realization it wasn't just facial muscles and vocal stresses he analyzed. Real live people hid behind those movements. People with fears to hide, shame to conceal, guilt to cover up. Who was he to sit in judgment of anyone? He, who had his own fears, shame and guilt he wanted no one else to see.

"It's one thing to see it," Ria interrupted his thoughts softly. "But its an entirely different thing to send someone to prison because of what you've seen. I didn't understand that at first. I saw things black and white. They're lying or they're not. But I think I'm finally understanding what Lightman's been trying to teach me."

"Yeah," Eli sighed. "What if that guilt I see isn't because he killed his wife? Maybe he feels guilty because he wasn't there to save her when she was attacked."

"That's possible."

"Lightman's so damned confident." Eli started.

"Arrogant," Ria interrupted with a slight grin.

Eli grinned back. "Yeah, that. Like he can't even imagine he might be wrong."

"Well, he does have Foster to bounce ideas off of. She's damned good too. Together you can't get much passed them."

"Yeah, together." He hated that he sounded like a six year old asking for reassurance but he couldn't stop it. "You think he's gonna be alright?"

Ria slumped in her chair. "Oh, god, I think so…I hope so. But when we saw him…"

"I know," Eli slouched lower. "They cracked him wide open, didn't they?"

"The cop who responded to the accident said he thought sure he was looking at a fatality." She shook her head as if to shake out bad thoughts. "But Lightman made it through surgery. He's damned tough."

"Takes a licking and keeps on ticking," Eli quoted with a horrible grin. "How's Gillian and Emily holding up? She called this morning, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did. As well as can be expected, I guess. She sounded real tired. She said they're letting him wake up some and had him breathing on his own for a couple of hours."

"That's good news."

"But then he spiked a fever. They're doing a bunch of tests to see if he's got some kind of infection."

"Can't catch a break, can he? This has got to be so hard on Gillian and Emily."

"She loves him, you know."

Eli didn't pretend to be surprised. It wouldn't have worked even if he tried, not here, and not with Ria. "I know. He hides it better, but I'm almost sure he loves her too."

Ria summoned up a grin. "You never know, maybe when he gets out of the hospital, they'll stop dancing around each other and actually do something about it."


	16. Chapter 16

Ask and ye shall receive. More of Cal and Gillain

**Part 16**

Gillian wrung the washcloth over the pink plastic basin, then ran it lightly over Cal's face and upper chest. She'd done it so often now, she'd developed a pattern. Across his forehead, down one temple and cheek, under his chin, up the other side, then a quick swipe at his chest, avoiding the trach and incision. Across, down, under, up, swipe, wring. As soon as she finished one circuit, more sweat erupted.

It had been like this for the last three days. Cal's temperature would go up, he'd get Tylenol, half hour or forty-five minutes later, he'd start to sweat, the fever would break and his temperature fell. Four or five hours later, when the Tylenol wore off, the cycle started again.

So far, none of the cultures proved positive. No infection could be found, so there was nothing to treat. She saw nothing but puzzled expressions on the doctors. Frustrating for the doctors, for her and mostly for Cal.

They'd done more pressure support trials, but Cal couldn't seem to go longer than four hours before his blood pressure started to sky-rocket and his respiratory rate became more like panting. Then they'd knock him out again despite his protests.

A warm hand grabbed her wrist. "Hey, there. Feeling any better?"

_Not really._

"Want me to stop?"

_No, that feels good._

"Okay," she started the movements again. "The doctors are doing the best they can, Cal, but they're having a hard time figuring you out."

_Doesn't everyone?_

"You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?" she teased. "You were never one to be ordinary, were you?"

_Boring._

"I, for one, would like a little boring about now. All this excitement is wearing me out."

_Are you okay?_

"I'm hanging in there. Emily, too. You should be proud of her. She's been very strong through all this."

_I've always been proud of Emily._

"I know you have. I know how much you love her and how much she loves you back."

_Embarrassment._

Grinning, she changed the subject. "You've got a lot more than stubble now. It's almost a proper beard."

His hand wandered up to the side of his face, surveying the growth.

"I'm sure we can have someone dig up a razor if you want to shave."

_What do you think?_

"I think it looks good. Maybe we'll just trim up the edges a little. Don't want you to get razor burn." She knew he hated shaving, his skin was quite sensitive.

_Whatever works for you. _His hand rose from his face into his sweat-matted, greasy hair. _ Itches_.

She ran her fingers through the mess. "I know. I'll ask Damon when he gets back if there something we can do about that."

_Water?_

"Sure." Dropping the cloth in the basin, she switched it for the cup with the green sponge. "Here you go."

_Ooohhh, gooooddd._

She tugged at the sponge. "If you want more, you have to give it back."

_Mischief._

"I'm not going to wrestle you for it," she grinned.

_Why not? _He managed to grab the shoulder of her blouse and tugged slightly.

"Cal," she protested, but let him pull her towards him. Slipping his hand up her shoulder, it curled around the back of her neck. She rose on the balls of her feet, leaning as far over the bed as she could. "Do you want a hug? I know I could use one."

_Come here._

Arranging her hands as carefully as she could, one under his nearest shoulder and the other on his neck, she lowered herself over him. His arm lay heavily across her back, pulling her close. She wedged her chin into the crock of his neck, cheek against cheek. His other arm rose, his hand tangling in her hair. Together they clung as she matched her breathing to his machine generated breath. She disregarded the sweat that soaked into her blouse, the twinge growing in her back. Hang onto me, Cal, and we'll both get through this. Just hang on.

* * *

Dr. Slaungard and Dr. Claudio stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down at Cal. Two more days had passed with no improvement in Cal's condition. "You are determined to be difficult, are you not, Dr. Lightman?"

Cal challenged them back with a sleepy glare. _You're the damned doctors. Fix me._

Gillian opened her mouth, but Claudio raised a hand. "I think I understand what he would like to say well enough." He lowered himself to sit on the foot of the bed so he could face both Cal and Gillian. "We are in something of a quandary. All of the original trauma appears to be healing at an acceptable rate. Yet you are still in a great deal of pain. We have no explanation for this."

_Bloody hell._

"And the fevers?" Gillian asked.

"Again we have no explanation. All of the cultures have returned negative. His body reacting to the trauma might be an explanation, but the timing is not the norm. The fever should be reducing now, not increasing. No, there is something else. Something we are not seeing. I am sure of it."

_Impatient._

Gillian ignored Cal's input for the moment. "So how do you track it down?"

"First I think we would like to do a CAT scan." He turned slightly to address Cal directly. "It will be quite uncomfortable for you if you choose to remain awake. First we will give you a fairly large amount of contrast dye directly into your stomach. Then you will have to be transported downstairs as this is not something we can do in the room such as the chest X-rays. This will not be easy or comfortable, especially with you still connected to the respirator."

_Let's do it._

"Cal doesn't have a problem with that," Gill translated.

"If we find something and enen if we don't - particularily if we don't," Slaungard spoke for the first time. "We may need to take him back into surgery."

"Surgery?" Gill gulped.

"There may be something we missed in the original surgery."

_Prima donna._

"Alright. Something I missed." Slaungard took a deep breath. "No one's perfect, Dr. Lightman."

"What are the risks of going back to surgery?"

"Substantial." Slaungard acknowledged. "He's still quite fragile. His system wouldn't deal well with any additional trauma."

"It could kill him?"

"Yes." Slaungard pulled no punches. "Any surgery can be deadly, but in his condition...the odds are in his favor, but not by much."

Gillian struggled to take a breath. "And if we decide not to do surgery?"

"We wait and hope the problem resolves on its own."

"And the odds of that happening are not good," Dr. Claudio added. "It has been more than a week and the pain is only increasing."

Gillian turned to Cal. It had to be his call.

_Fear. Hope. Decision. Go for it._

She nodded slowly. "Do the CAT scan. If you think you need to go back to surgery, he's ready for it."

Claudio clapped his hands together. "Very well. We will try to schedule the scan for tomorrow morning. I will be back to converse as soon as see the results."


	17. Chapter 17

**Part 17**

Cal floated dreamily above his hospital bed. His painkillers had been increased for his trip downstairs and he was now enjoying the afterglow. Gillian sat beside him dozing in her chair, her expression tired and worried. She didn't seem to have anything in particular she wanted him to do, no breathing or squeezing hands or wiggling toes. So he glanced about, looking for something to amuse himself. Perhaps he could find something that would make Gillian laugh. He loved her laugh.

He'd been told repeatedly he couldn't be touching all the tubes attached to him, so that was out. But no one had said anything about the tape with the little red light currently around his index finger. Laboriously he brought the hand closer to his face. He wondered what the red light did. A cord extended from the tape and disappeared somewhere behind him. What does this unknown object smell like? To find out, he let his hand fall towards his face, narrowly avoiding bonking his nose. Taking a whiff, he grimaced. Yech. Why did he need a stinky piece of tape shining a red light through his finger? Using his thumb, he rotated the tape, a little to the left, a little to the right. It didn't seem to be stuck on too tightly. Risking a glance at Gill, he twirled it around, then flicked it off. Underneath the tape his finger looked all wrinkly like he'd been in the bath for hours.

After on a few minutes blissfully tape free, an alarm blared behind him. He hurriedly dropped his arm back to his side. Gillian's head whipped around to stare at something behind him, then whirled back to look at him with anxious eyes.

"Cal, are you all right?"

He nodded, attempting confusion and innocence.

It didn't seem to be his best effort, for her eyes started to narrow, but the nurse stopped any interrogation by entering the room. "Hey, got an alarm, I hear?"

After silencing the alarm, it only took a second for the young man to find the abandoned sensor. "Here it is. Don't worry, happens all the time, especially when the patient gets to be more active. "Let's just…"

Cal snatched his hand away before the nurse could grab it. _No way am I letting you put that smelly thing back on me._

"C'mon, Cal, you need to have an oxygen sensor on." The young man cajoled.

Cal wrinkled his nose.

"He thinks it smells bad," Gillian translated for him.

The nurse held it up to his own nose, which also wrinkled. "You're right, it is kinda gross. How about if I get you a brand new sensor and we put it somewhere out of the way, like on one of your toes?"

Cal acquiesced with a slight nod.

When the man finished tethering Cal back to the machine, he turned to Gillian, "Gillian, I'm gonna get lunch now, so I should be back in about a half an hour. If he gives you any more trouble, you know where the call button is."

"Thanks, Damon."

Cal knew he was in for a lecture by the way Gillian approached his bed, but he could also see the under current of amusement in her eyes. Before he could make up his mind if he should try for innocent or contrite, she poked her index finger into his shoulder.

"Listen, buster, you can't be taking off the equipment. I know you have trouble remembering from one day to the next because of the sedation drugs, but you're gonna try real hard to remember this time, aren't you?"

He nodded, shooting her an exaggerated fear expression.

She attempted to smother her smile and poked him again. "Quit that, I know you're not scared of me. But you can't keep pulling out your tubes, peeling off your patches, picking at your staples and taking off your sensors because you're bored. All you accomplish is making alarms go off."

In apology, he peeled her finger away from his shoulder and tugged it up to his mouth. Making sure he kept eye contact, he pressed a kiss in the center of her palm, allowing just the barest tongue contact. _Forgiven?_

"Hey, dad," Emily cried as she pushed through the door causing Gillian to jerk her hand away from his mouth. _Ouch._

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" the teen asked coyly.

"Yeah," Gillian grinned, though her cheeks were unnaturally pink. "Your dad is getting in trouble again because he's bored."

"What did he do this time?"

"Pulled off his oxygen sensor."

"Set off all the alarms again, huh?" Emily reached over the bed and pecked him on the cheek. "Dad, you gotta stop doing that."

_Wha? Did I admit to anything? And what do you mean again?_

"Why don't you do some of his exercises with him, Em? That'll keep him occupied for a little while."

"Sure. What do you want to do today? Arms or legs?"

He bounced his hands at his side.

"Arms, it is. You remember how to do this?"

He shook his head, not remember ever doing exercises before.

"That's fine. We'll start out with the easy ones. Left hand first, because I'm already on this side. Make a fist, as hard as you can."

Following Em's example, he curled his fingers together. It wasn't terribly fist-like, he'd break all his fingers if he punched someone with it, but Emily seemed pleased. He reached out to poke Gill in the shoulder, showing her his fist.

"That's good, Cal."

Shaking his head, he used his other hand to point at his almost-a-fist, then pointed at her.

"Oh, you think I should exercise, too."

He nodded as enthusiastically as he could. If he had to do it, all of them should do it.

Gillian obliged with a grin.

"Now extend your fingers all the way. Really stretch them out."

Reaching out, Gill pressed the pads of her fingers against his, aiding him in his extension.

"Eleven more times. Fist, hold, now extend, hold. That's it, that's good, dad. I should charge for lessons."

He flashed her a parental look.

She just grinned back, "I know, I already spend most of your money."

Finishing with the hand, Emily led the class up the arms and into shoulder and chest exercises. Utterly dismayed how a few minutes of exercise that were little more than stretching, exhausted him, Cal struggled to finish the set, his muscles rubbery.

"I think he's had enough, Em."

"That's okay, dad. You did good. You can take a nap."

He nodded, feeling himself starting to come down from his painkiller high, the awful burning in his belly reasserting itself. A nap sounded just right.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Dr. Slaungard arrived. Gillian searched his features for good news and found nothing. She had told Emily earlier in the day about the possibility of more surgery and the teen now clung to her arm.

"We didn't see anything definite on the scan that would explain his symptoms." He skipped small talk to get straight to the issue. "I don't think we have much choice but to go back into surgery."

"Oh, no," Emily moaned.

"Is that your opinion as a surgeon?" Gill asked gently. "Where's Dr. Claudio?"

"Day off." He didn't take offense. "Surgeons do tend to want to solve problems surgically. But I did talk to Claudio on the phone, plus met with the rest of the ICU team and they agree with me. I just really don't see any other option but waiting and that doesn't seem to be working. Also, waiting has a risk of its own. Whatever the problem is could be causing permanent damage."

"What would dad want?" Emily whispered.

Gillian glanced at his sleeping face, echoes of pain still creasing his forehead and mouth. "I know, honey. He's not a very patient man." She nodded in cautious decision. "Surgery, it is."

"I have an opening tomorrow afternoon. I'll have my staff get the consent forms ready."


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 18**

Monday before surgery proved to be a quiet day. Cal slept most of the morning, which both delighted Gillian and made her anxious. Delighted, because asleep he couldn't get into any trouble and he was freed any worry for the upcoming surgery. Anxious, because her own worry ate at her and there was much she wanted to tell him before they took him away from her again. Perhaps permanently.

No, she couldn't allow herself to think like that. Only strong thoughts today, positive thoughts. Dr. Slaungard would find the issue that was causing Cal's pain and he could start to really recover. No complications, no bleeding, no problems. This surgery was a good thing, a solution, not a crisis. She kept repeating the phrase to herself.

"He's going to be okay," she whispered to the teen squeezed into the chair beside her. Taking the day off of school to be with her father, Emily trembled with her own nerves.

"He's gonna be okay," the girl repeated. "He's gonna be okay."

"Better than okay. The doctors are going to find the problem and make him better."

"Yeah, better." Emily shifted to face her. "I'm still scared, though."

"So am I, sweetheart." Gillian couldn't stop her shoulders from slumping with the admission. "So am I."

"Why?" the teen pleaded. "Why did this have to happen to him? To us? I don't want to lose my daddy!"

Holding Cal's daughter until the sobs subsided, Gillian scrubbed at her own wet cheeks. "I don't know why things like this happen. Why him? Why anyone. I don't know. God's design? Coincidence? Shit happens?"

That startled a giggle out of the teen. "Gillian," she chastised, then sobered. "It's so weird, all the risks he takes, and I probably don't even know the half of them, and he walks away with only bruises. He drives home on a regular afternoon and look what happens to him. All because some stupid jerk ran a red light."

Gillian nodded in complete understanding. She didn't understand Cal's disregard for his own life or personal safety, but she'd accepted it as part of the man he was. That didn't mean she still wouldn't argue with him on occasion, when she felt the risk outweighed the gain, but she endured the risk-taking as part of the essential man.

"But he's going to be okay," Gillian forced all her determination into her words.

"He's gonna be okay," Emily turned it into a mantra.

* * *

Before they were ready, Damon came to tell them that the transport team was on the way. Emily scurried to the head of the bed, thankful that her father appeared to be waking up.

"Hey, dad," got a sleepy grin. "They're coming to get you for surgery. So I wanted to tell you how much I love you." She saw the words returned on her father's soundless lips. "And I wanted to say I think you're just the bestest dad ever."

That got her a look of mild confusion and suspicion. "No, I'm not trying to get away with anything. I mean it. I couldn't have asked for a better dad."

The confusion lingered, but he held his arms up and she gratefully sank into his embrace, banishing from her mind that this might be the last hug she ever got from him. He gave such great hugs. "You're gonna be okay. And I'm gonna be okay. And Gill's gonna be okay. Okay?"

He managed to form his fingers into an okay sign. "That's right." She scattered kisses on the side of his face. "Now don't do anything stupid, you hear me. We'll be right here waiting for you when you get out."

He nodded and she gave him one more tight squeeze and kiss. "Now I'm gonna take a little walk. I think Gillian wants to talk to you alone. You be good."

Bemused, Gillian watched the teen waltz out of the room. How had the child known she had things to say to Cal that were best kept private?

"Hey, Cal."

_Hey. What's going on?_

"They going to take you to surgery in a few minutes. Do you remember?"

His face crunched into a frown, then relaxed_. Yeah._

"They're going to find what's causing the pain and fix it." Gillian fervently hoped.

_Good. _

Taking his hand, she leaned as far over the bed as she could. "Do you know how much I love you?"

His eyebrows jumped up, then smoothed into a faint grin. His hand moved about six inches apart.

"No, a lot more than that." She pulled the hand she held to its furthest outreach. "How about this much?"

_Surprise. Adoration_.

"And I'm not fooling myself when I say that I think you might love me too, am I?"

_NO. You are the center of my universe_.

"We're going to make it through this, Cal." His hand reached to wipe the tears from her jaw. "You and I make an unbeatable team."

_Bloody right._

The transport team barged into the room. Gillian threw herself down into Cal's arms as they bustled around, savoring the feel of his warmth around her.

"Be strong, Cal. You be strong and I will, too."

* * *

Once more they sat in the surgical waiting room, waiting. To Gillian's surprise and appreciation, Zoe stopped by, dropping off Chinese take-out for the two of them. She stayed only a few nervous minutes, but Gillian knew the reason and, even though she had to force the food down, was thankful for the effort.

Trying to find mindless distraction, Emily settled on watching game shows. Gillian guessed the answers along with her, but couldn't stop herself from wandering over to the monitor to check on Cal's status every ten or fifteen minutes. She knew it was much too early to hope for it to change, but she was compelled to keep looking. When she returned to the space they had taken over, Emily always met her with a questioning look and she always had to respond in the negative.

Minutes turned into hours and the waiting continued. Gillian laid her head back into the chair, trying to convince her muscles to relax. Starting at her toes, she told them to untense and after some coaxing they obeyed. She moved up, feet, ankles, knees, thighs. Unfortunately, by the time she reached her hands, her toes tightened up again. She finally managed a light doze.

Sometime later, sensing something, her head sprang up. Then she saw him. Dr. Slaungard. A tremulous grin spread over her face. If the man had been a soccer player, he would have been the one running around the stadium, his arms aloft, screaming in victory. Score!!

Rousing Emily with one hand, Gillian sat up straighter in her chair. "You found it?" she called as soon as the doctor was close enough.

"Yes!" Slaungard's grin threatened to cut his face in half. "Little bugger. Thought it could hide from me. But I found it!"

He flopped down next to Gillian, slapping his sweat-soaked cap against his knee. "A tiny little rip in his stomach. Had to be from the original trauma, but it wouldn't have been bleeding, so we missed it."

Gillian soaked up the doctor's elation. "Just a little rip?"

"Only a couple of centimeters long. But it pierced through his stomach, so stomach acid leaked into his abdominal cavity. That's what was causing his pain and fevers."

"And you fixed it?" Slightly insane laughter wanted to bubble out of her chest.

"Once we found it, only took a couple minute to stitch it up. His abdominal cavity is very inflamed right now, but give it a couple of days and he should be right as rain."

"Oh, thank you." Emily moaned.

The doctor sobered slightly. "I really should have caught it the first time. But it was so tiny and so many other things needed fixing…"

"Doesn't matter," Gillian reassured him. Nothing mattered right now, except Cal getting better.

"Well, I've got another surgery I've got to get ready for. Just wanted to let you know as soon as I could. Oh, and there were no other complications, no excess bleeding, nothing. He came through with flying colors."

Shaking his outstretched arm, Gillian patted Emily's back with her other hand. "Thank you again."

"No thanks needed. Glad to finally fix the problem. He should be back in his room in an hour or so, if you want to wait for him there. He'll probably be pretty out of it for the rest of the day but by tomorrow I expect a great improvement in his condition."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: **I'd like to thank everyone who'd taken the time to write a review. I truly appreciate the effort. This part of the story is a little short, but it's a transition to the next section, so it felt right that it should be by itself.

**Part 19**

Gillian arrived at the hospital the next morning to find Cal peacefully sleeping. No lines of pain furrowed his forehead or tightened his lips. He looked the most comfortable she'd seen him since this whole thing started.

"How was his night?" she asked in not much more than a whisper. She desperately wanted to talk to Cal, but not if it meant waking him from a restful sleep.

"Real good," Damon grinned, keeping his own voice low. "Missy said he barely moved all night and his vitals stayed stable, in normal ranges. Take a look at his oxygen sat."

Gillian glanced over to the monitor. "98?" Her eyes flicked between the monitor, Damon's happy smile and Cal's relaxed face. "He's never been that high. That's really good, isn't it?"

"That's tremendous," Damon's grin widened. "His body isn't using all its energy fighting the pain. I think he's going to start making some real improvements the next couple of days."

Relief flopped Gillian down into her chair. "Oh, I hope so."

"I know how stressful something like this can be for family and friends. I hope you don't mind if I tell you, but you've been a real trooper."

"Have I?" She certainly didn't feel particularly strong. Mostly she felt tired, helpless and out of control. A large, warm hand quickly gripped her shoulder, then left with a soft pat. She smiled up at the tall nurse with gratitude.

"Yes," he nodded emphatically. "You've hung in there with pretty tough circumstances. But I think I should warn you that as he gets better and is able to communicate more, you'll be dealing with his emotional state, too. Don't be too surprised if he gets angry, depressed, frustrated, bored or just about any other emotion. With all the drugs he's getting right now, he hasn't had much of a chance to really understand what's happened to him."

Gillian stared at Cal's sleeping face thoughtfully. She hadn't considered much beyond the immediate situation, the danger of him dying. Unsure how Cal would respond, she mused on the possibilities. Boredom for sure, they'd already seen that. The other reactions weren't out of the realm of potential. She reminded herself she'd studied long and hard to become a clinical psychologist. Surely she could use her skills for the benefit of someone she loved. But the fact that she loved him might lessen her objectivity. Might? How long had she ever been able to remain truly objective about Cal?

"I guess I'll go there when we get there."

"Hey, looks like our favorite patient is awake." Damon moved up to the head of the bed. "How are you feeling this morning, buddy?"

Cal's face screwed up in consideration.

"He's feeling okay," Gillian translated. "Good, in fact."

At the sound of her voice, he turned his head, eyes lighting up as she came within his field of vision.

"Good morning, sunshine," she called and one corner of his mouth quirked up.

"That's great," Damon enthused. "Can you squeeze my fingers? Great, good grip. How about wiggle your toes? I know, the left foot doesn't work very well yet, but you've gotta try. Good, Cal."

Cal rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to translate that one for me," Damon quipped. "Okay, I've got some other stuff I've got to do just to annoy you and then I'll leave you alone so Gillian can help you brush your teeth and wash your hair."

_Wash my hair?_

"He really likes the idea of having clean hair."

"It wouldn't be quite the same as having a real shampoo, but I think it'll make your head feel a lot better." Damon grasped the suction on the ventilator tube. "I'm gonna make you cough now, buddy. Can you give me a good, strong cough?"

Cal's cough still sounded weak to her inexpert ears, but world's better than the previous week. Damon glanced over with a pleased expression.

"That was good, Cal. Keep that up we'll get you out of here before you know it."

Damon completed his morning routine with a minimal amount of grousing on Cal's part. "Occupational therapy dropped this off," he pulled a big red sponge rubber cylinder out of the supply drawer. "Until you get more fine motor control back, this will help you do some things on your own."

Cal and Gillian watched carefully as Damon inserted the handle of the sponge tooth brush into the red cylinder. "It'll make it easier for you to hold onto things. Like your toothbrush. I'm sure Gillian will help you while I go get the hair rinse."

His eye-hand coordination not at its best, Cal needed some help grasping the handle. Once Gillian established his secure grip, she guided it to his mouth. Soon he was enthusiastically brushing away.

"Don't overdo it." Gillian scolded with a grin. "You need some of that enamel."

_Let me alone, I'm having fun._

She smirked back. "You go ahead and have fun then." She walked over to the bathroom to fill his cup with water. "When you're done, you can dip it in here and rinse out a little."

By the time they were done with the brushing and rinsing, Damon returned with the hair rinse. Gillian read the directions: Spray hair. Gently massage hair and scalp clean. No rinsing necessary.

"This looks easy. You ready, Cal?"

_Oh, yeah. Please?_

"Close your eyes." When he obeyed, Gillian began spritzing the liquid into his hair. When she felt she done enough, she set down the bottle and began running her finger through his fine hair. She raked her nails lightly over his skull in long slow sweeps. Brushing it up from the nape then smoothed it before beginning another long sensuous stroke at the crown of his head. He shivered.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she asked, a little breathless.

His eyes fluttered open, dark with pleasure. _More. So good._

Happy to oblige, she resumed her massage.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note: **The moment you've been waiting for. Cal speaks! Hope it lives up to your expectations.

**Part 20**

In the past two days, Cal had improved so much the doctors decided the time had come to do what they called a trach cap. Not only would Cal be breathing on his own, but a device would be inserted which would allow him to talk again. The trach cap would also allow them to connect him back to the ventilator quickly and easily if he became too tired or distressed to breath on his own. To start, he would be disconnected during the day, then reconnected and sedated at night. Dr. Claudio thought that this would also allow Cal to develop a more normal sleep pattern, for his body to recognize day and night again.

So Gillian stood away from his bed, almost bouncing with nervous energy, while the doctors and techs worked on Cal's trach. She wished Emily could be here but Gillian just couldn't bring herself to delay this moment for even a few more hours. She desperately needed to hear his voice again.

"That should do it," Dr. Claudio straightened. "You should be able to talk now, Dr. Lightman."

Unconsciously, Gillian pushed her way to Cal's bedside. Their eyes sought each other out and a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Gillian." His voice had little power, differing from his normal tone in ways she couldn't quite identify, but the emotion that spread through her at hearing it again nearly stopped her own breathing. She loved hearing her name when spoken by him.

"Cal." Her hand fluttered over his shoulder to his face.

His brows lowered, "Are you all right, darlin'? You look like hell."

Her laugh hiccupped into a sob. "Oh, god, Cal. I can't…you're…talking and…"

He reached up and she let him pull her close. Her arms under his shoulders and her ear pressed against his chest, she listened to the soft breathing and the rumble of his words.

"Don't cry, luv. It's okay. Shhh, don't cry."

"I've missed you so much." She anointed his bare chest with her tears. "So lonely without you." She realized the truth of her words as she said them. Surrounded by medical staff, supported by true friends, she'd been abysmally lonely, even though she spent the majority of each day beside him. She hadn't appreciated how much she needed him awake, aware and talking.

"I'm here," he murmured, one hand weakly stroking her hair, the other spread over the side of her face. "We're together and it'll be all right. Shhh…no more tears, luv. I'm here." She felt what must be kisses on the top of her head. "We'll be okay."

Raising her head, she looked fully into his green eyes. To both of their surprise, she surged forward to kiss him fully on the mouth. His lips dry and chapped, but warm, so warm, tasting of toothpaste and her own tears. She let the kiss linger a moment, felt his response, then pulled slowly away.

"We'll be okay," she affirmed to his slow blooming smile.

Neither of them noticed exactly when the medical personnel discretely filed out of the room.

* * *

Cal would have been happy to spent the next few hours - hell, the rest of eternity - with Gillian sprawled across his chest, but he could tell the position was becoming uncomfortable for her. Reluctantly, he loosened his arms, letting her slide away from him. But he retained eye contact, drinking in her swollen eyes, red blotched skin and leaking nose. Even concerned by the tears, she'd never looked more beautiful to him.

"What's wrong, luv?"

"Nothing's wrong." She swiped a tissue under his nose. "It's very, very right."

Yes, he could see the happiness in her shining eyes. But he seemed to be missing important pieces of the puzzle. "What's happened?"

Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat, a multitude of expressions flying across her features. Fear, worry, love, happiness, he identified and puzzled over.

"You were in a car accident, Cal." She took his hand between both of her own.

Somehow he had the feeling he'd heard those words multiple times before, but he couldn't remember when or where. That disturbed him, for he relied upon his near perfect memory. "Car accident? Bad?"

"Very bad." Fear again.

He didn't want to dwell on how bad, not yet. He didn't want to see that fear on her face. "I'm in hospital?"

"Yes," she nodded, daubing at her still leaking eyes. "Almost three weeks now."

He could feel his eyebrows shoot up. "Three weeks?" How could three weeks have passed with only a few vague, distorted memories to show for it?

She squeezed his hand. "Three weeks. They had you sedated most of the time. You've had two surgeries, but they think all the major problems are fixed now."

He closed his eyes against the incipient panic. In his head, he heard a patient voice instructing him; breathe, in two three four, out two three four. Instinctually he followed the rhythm. Slow and deep, that's it. His lungs felt inefficient, stiff, but they acquiesced to his will. Slow and deep, in two three four, out two three four.

"Cal?" her concern sparked across his skin.

When he felt he had his body under control again, he opened his eyes. "Could I have a drink?"

"Well, you're not supposed to have anything until speech therapy comes up to do a swallow study, but I can wet your mouth some."

Letting her stick a sponge into his mouth, he savored the wetness on parched tissue.

"Don't worry," he reassured her when he'd sucked all the liquid he could from the sponge. Pulling her hands up to his lips, he kissed them, trying to make the lines disappear from her forehead. His Gillian shouldn't worry like this, especially not about him. "It's just…I don't remember much…anything really."

As her hand caressed his cheek, he realized he had almost a full beard instead of the scruff he usually sported. Proof time had passed without him being aware.

"You don't remember because of the sedation drugs. The doctors said that was to be expected."

Breathing slow and deep, he stashed the feelings he hadn't the energy to deal with at the moment into a corner of his brain and reached for other concerns. "Are you all right? And Emily? How's she?"

"Emily, of course, has been very concerned about you. But you have a very strong daughter, Cal." Her hand stole up into his hair and he barely suppressed a shiver. He loved the feeling of fingers in his hair. "She's been a real fighter."

"You've been looking out for her," he stated. He knew Zoe didn't handle trauma all that well, especially if it concerned hospitals.

"Yes," she agreed. "And she's been looking out for me too. You should be proud of her."

"I always have been." He let his eyes skate over his taut features, taking in the red rimmed eyes, the dark skin under her eyes unsuccessfully hidden under concealer. "And you? You're tired."

"I think we're on the right road now. You've gotten so much better the last few days."

That was good to hear but "You're deflecting, luv."

"It's been hard," she admitted. "But I don't want to think about that, right now." Her head dipped and he twisted his own, intrigued by the pink stain spreading across her cheeks. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

His jaw dropped, "Gillian?"

"I love you," she repeated, turning her face into his palm and kissing it. "Oh, god, I do, I love you."

Wonder seized his soul, quite stunned by the force of the words.

"You don't have to…it's just I've been here…" she stammered. "I think I always have…but you were married…then I was married…it just never seemed the right time…but I do…and I have…you almost died…oh, god, Cal…I almost lost you…I love you so much."

With the lightest pressure, she was in his arms. "I love you," a pressure released from his chest as he said the words he'd despaired of every being allowed to say. "Since the first time I saw you in that classroom. I've always loved you. My Gillian." He pressed fervent kisses unto every patch of skin within his reach. Please, don't let this be a dream. Please, please. "My love."


	21. Chapter 21

**Part 21**

Emily almost wept in disappointment when she entered the room to find her father looking like he was still sedated. Yesterday the doctors had said they would be putting in a valve that would allow him to talk. She hadn't been able to talk her mother into letting her take another off of school to be here, so she'd spent all day so excited she'd barely been able to sit still, let alone pay attention. And now she was here and he was sleeping.

"Hey, Em," Gillian greeted, a quirky smile curving her lips.

"Hey," she mumbled in reply. "Is he?"

Holding eye contact with that strange little smile, Gillian reached out to shake her father's shoulder. "Cal. Cal, wake up. Emily is here."

Sleepy eyes blinked open, then she was greeted with a wide melting smile. "Emily."

Her hand fluttered up to her mouth. "Oh…they did…I was scared…I thought once they let you talk, you wouldn't be able to stop."

"Saving my voice for you, luv." His voice slightly raspy, slightly different, but instantly recognizable as his.

"Oh, daddy," she giggled through her tears. Picking up his hand, she bounced his palm off her own.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" he chided gently. "All my women are crying today. I though this was supposed to be a happy event."

"It's just so good to hear your voice again." She swiped at her eyes, not at all embarrassed to cry in front her father or Gillian. Speaking of Gillian, "You cried, too?"

Gillian's eyes shown even now with unshed tears. "Yes, I did." There was something else in Gillian's eyes, something that hadn't been there yesterday. A quiet glow. A glow matched in her father.

"Hey, Emily," Damon greeted, as he entered, his hands filled with supplies. "You see we've got him talking again."

"Isn't it great?" She grinned at the cute nurse.

"Who's this?" her dad demanded, no doubt reading the expression on her face.

"Dad, this is Damon, he's been your nurse most days." She leaned close to his ear to whisper, "He's my newest crush."

"Wha?" He put on his most intimidating father look. Or he tried, it wasn't easy being intimidating in a hospital bed, wearing paisley shorts. "He's much too old for you. You, nurse, how old are you?"

Damon stopped, his mouth slight ajar. "You have an English accent."

The non-sequitor stopped her father for a moment. "Most people from England do."

"I'm sorry," Damon flushed. "I just didn't realized…it's not what I expected. Sorry. Oh, I'm twenty-six."

"Way too old." Cal stared pointedly at his daughter, with a sideways glare saved at Damon.

"Dad, you're embarrassing both of us." But she couldn't stop her giggle. It was so good to hear him talk again. So good to have a father again.

* * *

Gillian stood at Cal's door, scrubbing her hands with the anti-bacterial foam when tiny Missy stalked past her to bang open Cal's door.

"Stop that right now, Cal Lightman. I know you have a blood pressure, so just quit messing with the cuff. You don't want me to have to put restraints on you, do you?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" A definite nasty note sounded in Cal's voice.

"No, I don't want to do that at all," Missy growled. "I'd have to fill out forms. But I will if you don't knock it off." She swiveled toward Gillian with enough suppressed anger to make Gillian jump. "He's cranky this morning." With that Missy stomped off.

Shock still on her face, Gillian pushed open the door. "What did you do to that poor woman?"

"Nothing," Cal grouched.

Gillian suppressed a sigh. Cal being awake didn't mean there were no more mountains to climb or dragons to slay. She'd known Cal, control freak that he was, wouldn't deal well with a situation where most of the control, even over his own body, lay in other people's hands. She looked around the room for something to help jolly him out of his present mood.

"They took out your arterial line," she gestured at the now bandage covered wrist.

He poked at the blood pressure cuff surrounding his bicep. "Yeah, but now I've got this bloody stupid thing attached to me."

She spotted the table she usually used as her work desk now straddled Cal's bed and a covered tray lay on top.

"They brought you breakfast," she exclaimed, genuinely excited. His first meal. Having dropped almost twenty pounds from an already slender frame, Cal badly needed real food in his system, not just nourishment through his IV. "What'd they bring?"

"Take a look," he grimaced, but a touch of amusement sparkled in his eyes.

She opened the lid and burst out laughing. "Oh, Cal…see, the hospital agrees with me."

"Pudding," he sneered, trying desperately to hold onto his bad mood. He made the word sound like Poison. "Chocolate pudding!"

"I take it you didn't order this," she said through her giggles.

He glared. "Would I order chocolate pudding? For breakfast? Bloody hell, would I _ever _order it?"

"I thought maybe you ordered it just for me," she teased.

His expression softened instantly. "Anything for you, luv. How about a proper good morning?"

"Good morning, sunshine." She stretched over his bed to press her lips against his. A gentle kiss, a little shy, sharing more breath than taste. He retreated slightly, then came back for more. Still tentative, searching, expressing feeling not yet fully explored.

"Morning," he murmured against her lips.

Reluctantly, she straightened, but kept eye contact, letting her expressions tell him everything she couldn't say yet and reading his positive response.

He cleared his throat. "What else do they have there beside pudding?"

"Here's some applesauce," she displayed for his viewing pleasure. "And what looks like apple juice."

His slight good humor vanished.

"What's wrong, Cal?" turning serious herself.

He struggled with himself for a second, a fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face. "I don't think I can eat it by myself."

Glad Cal wasn't looking at her for the moment, she didn't try to prevent her flash of pain from showing. "Well, we have two option," she said matter-of-factly, determined to allow him every ounce of control she could. "I can help you. Or we can put your handle on the spoon and you can give it a try yourself. Whichever you want to do. Your choice."

"I'd probably make a mess."

"Doesn't matter," she assured him. "You wash."

"Give the nurses something to do, other than stick needles in me," he considered. "Let's go for it, yeah."


	22. Chapter 22

**Part 22**

At lunch time, Gillian, tired, bored and sick of hospital food, decided she deserved a break. A small restaurant she'd noticed a couple of blocks from the hospital had peeked her interest, so she thought she'd give it a shot. She usually didn't care for eating out alone, but she simply had to get away. Scrawling a note on the white board for Cal in case he woke up before she got back, she grabbed her coat and hot-footed it out the door.

In the lobby, just as she opened the door to freedom, she heard her name called. Ignore it, she dearly wanted to just ignore it. But she couldn't make herself, not if it might mean Cal needed her.

"Gillian."

She turned, then her jaw dropped in surprise. "Jeffrey?"

The tall, broad shouldered man smiled anxiously and held out his hand. "I didn't think you'd stop. Are you mad at me, too?"

She must have walked right by him and not realized it. A familiar face in a unexpected environment. Jeffrey Buchanan, one of Cal's oldest and dearest friends. At least, until a year ago, when Cal took a case working for Jeffrey and had it blow up in his face. Both of their faces, really. Jeffrey had barely escaped the Priox scandal without jail time and his reputation only marginally affected. Cal's method of solving the case shook the friendship and Jeffrey hadn't spoken to Cal since. Gillian knew it grieved Cal to his core.

"No, I'm not mad, Jeffrey." Gillian shook the outstretched hand. "I just didn't see you. Or rather I saw you and didn't realize it was you."

"How is he?"

"Better, much better."

Closing his eyes, Jeffrey let out a great gasp of air. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that."

"Listen, I was just going out to get something to eat," Gillian started. "Join me and we can..."

"I'd like that," Jeffrey grinned hopefully. "I do want to see Cal, though."

"And he'll probably be awake by the time we get back."

* * *

The walk to the restaurant, being seated and ordering their food was nearly silent. Once Gillian started she didn't want to be constantly interrupted.

"I would have come earlier but I didn't know," Jeffrey's brow furrowed. "I just found out about Cal's accident today. I've been out of the country. I came as soon as I heard."

She nodded at his obvious sincerity.

"How is he, really?"

"He's much better, really," she let out a sigh. "He's not completely out of the woods yet, he's still in ICU, after all, but much, much better. But I won't lie to you, Jeff, he's still very sick."

"He could have died?"

The breath caught in her throat. "The police say he _should_ have died. The wreck was that bad. He's been on the ventilator for over three weeks, they still don't have him completely weaned off."

"Oh, god," Jeff moaned. "All this time…I could have…should have…damn it."

"But he's still alive, Jeff," Gillian reached for his trembling hand with her own trembling hand. "Thank god, he's still alive and we all have a chance to say things we should have said before."

He wiped his palms over his eyes. "I knew I overreacted six months ago. Pride kept me from calling Cal. Telling him I'm sorry. Damn, I could have been too late."

"But you're not."

"I've made so many mistakes."

"Haven't we all?" Gillian empathized.

They paused to let the waiter set her pasta and his burger in front of them. Neither of them felt especially hungry now, but they each fed their bodies needs.

"Did he ever tell you when I broke my back, he visited every day? He's the one I cried with when I found out there was no spinal cord damage. I owe him."

"No, but he did tell me you went back home with him when his mother died. That meant a lot to him."

His eye grew distant. "He'd told me a little about his home life. When he got the news….he was completely devastated. How could I let him go back to that…house alone?"

She'd never been able to even partially heal the wound of his mother's suicide. Maybe soothed the raw edges a little, but no more. Thirty years and still the pain lurked just under the surface.

"How can I make it up to him? And to you. You've been here dealing with this mostly by yourself, haven't you?"

"Not all alone," she denied, though there were days, even with Emily, Ria or Eli in and out, unbearably lonely. The pressure of being the one trying to understand all the implications and risks, making all the decisions, strained her internal resources in a way she never would have expected.

"Let me help," he pleaded.

* * *

Still sleeping when Gillian returned, Cal shifted slightly, appearing to be on the verge of waking. She stretched up to kiss his lax lips.

"What am I, sleeping beauty?" Cal blinked his eyes open.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You've got a visitor."

His brows raised, "Yeah, who?"

"It's me, Cal," Jeffrey announced from where he hovered in the doorway.

"Jeff?" Surprise and delight flashed, then his expression became guarded.

"I'm going to let you talk," Gillian whispered into Cal's ear.

* * *

Cal barely noticed when Gillian left, so stunned by Jeffrey's appearance. Partly because of his profession and partly because of his own personality, he trusted very few people in his life. To cause one of them to no longer trust _him_ had been a terrible blow.

Jeff hesitantly approached his bed, his face showing his horror. Cal forced himself not to pull the bed sheet over his stapled chest.

"I'm sorry, Cal."

"For what?"

"For everything. For putting you in the middle of the Priox mess. I never should have involved you in my drama. Sorry for dragging you into the shit between Erica and me. For thinking even for a minute that you could betray me. For not being here sooner."

Cal could find no words to answer.

Jeff rubbed his hands over his face. "I was so angry with Erica…so betrayed that she would lie to me like that…take that kind of stupid risk with other people's lives. A person died because of her. And because of me. Because I was so enamored with her I didn't ask the questions I should have until it was too late. I was angry with her and myself and I used you as a scapegoat. It took me a couple of months to face up to that."

Not particularly good at emotional scenes, unless he was causing them, Cal cleared his throat to give himself time to think. "Why did you wait then?"

"Pride. Embarrassment. I'm still not terribly pleased with you setting me up like that, but...it's not easy to admit when you're wrong. "

Yes, Cal had trouble with that himself. In his line of work, being wrong could cost other people dearly, possibly even with their lives. What some people saw as arrogance - he was well aware of what others thought of him even as he chose to ignore their opinions – he knew was much needed confidence. If he couldn't be sure of what he saw, confident in his accuracy, he'd be better off staying at home and writing books.

"I get it, yeah."

"So," Jeff shrugged his shoulders, lifting his palms up. "I'm sorry."

Cal let a smile grew slowly across his face. "Should I forgive you right now? Or should there be a penance attached?"

Jeff grinned back in relief. "I'll do whatever you want, buddy. Just ask."

Cal turned serious. "Look after Gillian until I can get out of here. She wearing herself down to nothing."

"You really care for her, don't you?"

"She's a very good friend."

"More?" Jeffrey teased but with a serious turn.

"Not yet." Cal smiled, a bit shyly. "Maybe."

"She'd be good for you, Cal. I've seen her take your shit and not back down."

"Oy, what shit have I ever given her?" Cal didn't want to think off all the crap he thrown at Gillian in their long friendship.

"Yeah, right. But seriously, Cal, I'll do whatever I can for both of you."


	23. Chapter 23

**Part 23**

"Hey, Cal, take a look at this," Gillian angled the laptop so he could see the video she'd been analyzing.

"You're gonna have to get it closer," he squinted at the screen. He'd been allowed to raise the head of the bed in the last few days. The first couple of times he'd been a little dizzy, but had adapted quite quickly to his new more upright position.

She rolled the table across his bed and pressed play. "What do you see?"

"Any one in particular? Or is this a test?"

"The woman…" Gillian stretched and leaned over the bed. "See the one in the corner?"

He frowned at her awkward position. "If we're both gonna look at it, you're gonna have to crawl up here with me."

She straightened in indecision. Spending time cuddled up to Cal sounded like heaven, but... "I don't think I should. It's probably against the rules."

"Live dangerously, Foster," he smirked, using slightly regained arm muscles to scoot himself closer to the rail. "What can they do? Throw us out?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Lying here next to me isn't gonna hurt me." He beckoned. "You can stretch out, relax and show me whatever tape you want."

His pleading look conquered her feeble resistance. "Alright." She kicked off her shoes. "Can you move your butt over a little more?"

"Anything for you, luv."

Settling herself against Cal's warm side, she found it a remarkable comfortable fit. Her left shoulder overlapped his right, his arm just behind her neck. Oh, yes, she could get used to this. Pulling the table over their laps, she positioned the laptop so they both could see it. She let the short video of the crowd of people play.

"Horror, contempt," His finger smudging the screen, Cal pointed out the various expressions. "Anger. Sadness. Anger again. Oh, this one. She's very happy. What case is this, Gill?"

"Suspected arson. The insurance company hired us. Of course, they don't want to pay if the owner is any way involved in burning his own building down. Got this from one of the news stations, shooting the crowd outside the building. Most of the crowd are, rather were, tenants in the apartments."

"Well, I'd track her down, yeah. What else you got?"

Gillian spent an enjoyable two hours, reviewing cases they'd closed in Cal's absence, new cases they'd taken on and results from the research Sylvia and Tom had been assigned. Cal seemed a bit taken back by the amount of work that had been accomplished while he was gone.

"Everyone's worked really hard," she tried to assure him. "Loker and Torres, in particular have really stepped up."

"I suppose they'll be wanting raises next," he groused.

"And if they do, they'll deserve it." She leveled a determined eyes at him. "Of course, I've got more than a few potential clients that would sign a contract with any one but you. They don't just want the Lightman Group, they want Lightman."

He perked up a little at that. "Glad to know I haven't been totally replaced."

She dared to kiss the end of his nose. "No one can replace you, Cal. You're unique."

"Hmmm." He turned his face, so she couldn't read his expression. "You know, I seem to remember that you might have…well, said something about you loving me."

Placing her fingers on his chin, she turned his face back. "Yeah. I think I might remember something like that, too. Something like, I love you, Cal Lightman."

"Uh huh," he nodded against her fingers. "Is this a 'We've been best friends for years and I like hanging around with you' kind of I love you? Or is this a 'I want to spend every minute with you and do deliciously sweaty things together' kind of I love you?"

Not attempting to conceal her reaction to the thought of doing deliciously sweaty things with him, she smiled into his wide, vulnerable eyes. "Both. I love you every way its possible to love another person."

He gulped against her fingers. She rolled toward him and with a groan he slanted his head and kissed her, his mouth open to graze his tongue along her lips. She opened for him and felt the wondrous shock of heat and wetness as Cal's tongue boldly entered her mouth and slipped in a full voluptuous circle around its confines. She followed his lead, returning the intimacy, tasting him, sampling his texture, all sleek and heated, flavored of applesauce. Her body came alive with sensation more compelling than any she'd known before.

"Cal," she murmured as she pulled back for breath. His own breathing rough and raspy, Cal buried his face into her hair.

"We can't," but she didn't stop kissing the side of his face, his neck. "Not here."

"I know," he leaned back against the pillows, his finger gently tracing her lips. "Even if we had a little privacy, I don't think I'm gonna be able to do too much more than kiss for awhile."

As much as she wanted to know the full intimacy of being with him, she was more than willing to wait. The freedom to express what she felt and let it show on her face overjoyed her. No more hiding, distracting or distancing. The line was crossed and there was no going back.

His eyes roamed her face. "I love you, Gillian Foster. I'm _in_ love with you. No more bloody stupid line to hide behind."

"No more line," she affirmed. New boundaries would be explored and developed, every couple did, but especially true of them. A journey fraught with risk, but promising so much more.

* * *

Hours later, Annette, the surgeon's PA entered the room to find them still cuddled on the bed, drowsily watch TV.

"You guys look so cute together." She glanced at the screen."What you got on?"

"Judge Judy."

"Oh, yeah. Which one's lying?"

"Both," Gillian and Cal answered together. Cal gestured at the screen in disgust. "And bloody awful at it, they are."

"How can you tell? Or are they propriety secrets?"

"Nah, anybody can see, if you know what you're looking for."

"And study for two decades." Gillian added in a soft aside.

"That's just me. I'm a little slow. You caught on in what…a couple of years?"

"I'm still working on it."

"See that?" Cal pointed at the defendant. "That little one-sided shrug. Means she has no confidence in what she's saying. She does it every time she answers the Judge's questions."

"The plaintiff's worse."

"Seems pretty sincere to me," Annette scowled at the screen.

"No, just now, did you see the nod when he denied he signed the check himself? He's so busy keeping his lies straight, his body can't keep track."

"The Judge…"

"Judy." Gillian supplied.

"Yeah, her, she knows he's lying, too. She's trying to hide it but the contempt!"

"Contempt?"

"Look for a tightening and slight raising of the lip corner, primarily on one side of the face." Cal supplied distractedly as he watched the drama. "Contempt is the only emotion expressed asymmetrically."

"Yowser, you guys are good," she shook her head in wonder. "But listen, I've got some good news for you."

That yanked both of Cal and Gillian's eyes from the screen. "What?"

"How would you like to get that tube out of your throat and move into a regular room?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note**: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. But I had a project I had to get done for my mom before Easter. You guys are important, but a boy has to take care of his mom.

**Part 24**

Shortly after Annette's announcement a team arrived to relieved Cal of the ventilator tube. Gillian found herself staring out the window, the procedure not one she wanted to witness. She'd seen enough of Cal uncomfortable and in pain. But a bout of harsh coughing turned her head to the group behind her.

"We're all done," Annette declared as she pressed a dressing over the hole in Cal's throat. "Nice, deep breaths, Dr. Lightman."

Cal attempted a nod, his face reddened and eyes watering by the coughing. Gillian made her way through the crowd to his side, his hand extended to her before she'd made half the journey. She could feel his effort at suppressing the cough through the tightness of his grip.

"Usually we encourage coughing, but right now it could stress some pretty tender tissue and we don't want to cause any major bleeding." Annette took a peek under the red speckled dressing. "It's looking good right now."

"That's it," Gillian asked, a little amazed. The whole procedure took less than 5 minutes.

"Yup, that's it." Annette smiled. "A lot easier coming out than going in. And it looks like you're just about done bleeding. Could you hand me that roll of tape?"

Obediently, Gillian grabbed the roll from the tray. Eyebrows raised, Cal watched the PA struggle with sticky tape and protective gloves.

"I'm the guinea pig for you to practice on, yeah." he rasped.

"Shut it," she scowled back, but with twinkle in her eyes. "I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, no," Gillian held Cal's reaching hand down. "Don't give him any ideas."

"There!" Annette stood back to admire her handiwork. "Now isn't that pretty?"

Cal grimaced as Gillian smiled at the neat dressing now firmly taped to Cal's throat.

"Wound Care'll be around to check up on you for a couple of days. Try not to get it wet. Oh, and you'll probably wouldn't want to talk too much in the next couple of hours. Vocal cord are a little bit inflamed. I'll order you up something for that."

"Thanks, Annette," Gillian offered.

"No problem. Transport should be coming sometime this afternoon to move him. Have fun in your new room."

* * *

"Hey, Dad. Gillian." Emily swept into the room, dropping her backpack into the corner. "How you doing?"

"Notice anything different?" Gillian suppressed her grin.

The teen's eyes wandered the room until they lit on her father and his equipment. Or lack of equipment. "Dad! You're free!"

And he was, totally free, at least for the moment. No tubes, wires or lines attached to his body anywhere. "Great, yeah? They're letting me out of ICU, too."

"Wow, when did this happen? And you're moving to a regular room. That's fantabulis!"

She rushed over to give her father a hug unimpeded by any medical apparatus. "I knew you'd get better."

"Of course," Cal returned the hug with all of his strength.

"Hate to interrupt," Damon poked his head into the room. "But Wayne and Eva from therapy are here and they've got an idea they wanted to run by you."

"Sure, send 'em in."

Gillian listened worriedly as the pair outlined their plan. Instead of transferring Cal to a gurney for the trip to his new room, the occupational and physical therapists thought he might like to try to stand and swivel into a wheelchair so he could leave ICU upright instead of on his back. Cal, of course, was all for the idea, which just compounded Gillian's nervousness. Cal had never been a very good judge of his own limits. Sometimes she wondered if he realized he had limits at all.

But both Eva and Wayne had been working with Cal since the beginning, even when he was deeply sedated. Being professionals, surely they knew what Cal might be capable of. She did want to be the one to take the eager determination from Cal's face.

"Okay, let's give it a shot."

It didn't take them long to get Cal maneuvered to sitting on the edge of the bed. Face paling, he squeezed his eyes shut. Gillian pressed her shoulder against his to steady him.

"Dizzy?" Eva asked, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his bicep.

"A little bit," Cal admitted reluctantly.

"To be expected when you've been on your back for so long." She glanced up at the reading on the monitor. "Blood pressure's doing okay, though. Just sit there a couple of minutes and get your bearings while we get everything set up for you."

A wide web belt secured around Cal's chest, Wayne and Eva took positions on either side of him, each bracing a foot in front of him and arranging the sheet beneath him into a make-shift sling.

"Gillian, Emily, come on over," Wayne beckoned them. "You should learn how to do this without hurting him or yourselves. I'm sure he'll be more comfortable with you guys helping than calling the staff every time he wants to get up."

Gathered in a tight group, Eva started to explain, "Okay, first we're just gonna try standing. If you do okay and feel up to it, then we'll try the swivel. Are you ready to try?"

"Yeah."

"You're not going to let him fall, are you?" Emily interjected nervously.

"Oh, no, we never let that happen. See where our legs are?" At Emily's nod, Eva continued. "We've got our legs in front of his knees, so if his legs don't hold him, his knees can't go forward and he'll just sit right back on the bed."

"Oh, okay. Okay, good."

"Good," Wayne smiled reassuringly. "Okay, Cal, remember your pelvis was fractured and your ankle is bolted together, so we don't want to put too much stress on them. Use your upper body as much as you can. When you're ready, you're gonna rock forward a couple of times and then push up with your arms and straighten your legs. Keep your head and chest up. Grab onto our arms or shoulders to pull. Ready?"

"Let's go."

Both Wayne and Eva wound their hands around the web belt and sheet sling, while Cal scooted to the edge of the bed. "On your count, Cal?"

Gillian held her breath as Cal counted. One, rock forward and back. Two, another rock, a little farther each way. Three and Cal surged upward.

"Pull your butt underneath you," Eva instructed as Gillian reminded, "Look up, Cal."

Wobbly as a newborn foal, Cal stood upright for the first time in a month. Triumph lit his eyes and shone from his beaming smile. Gillian sent a watery smile in return. Emily clapped and whistled ear-piercingly.

"Come 'ere," Cal breathed.

Pushing herself into the small space between the two therapist, Gillian wound her own arms around Cal's chest. He transferred his grip to her shoulders, turning the needed support into a fierce embrace.

"I won't let you fall, Cal," she promised.

"I know, luv. You never have," he whispered back. "But I think I better sit back down again."

Easing him back to the bed, everyone in the room erupted with cheers.


	25. Chapter 25

**Part 25**

"Oh, yes, that's it."

"Harder?"

"No, oohh, that feels good. Bloody hell, woman, keep doing that and I'll be your slave forever."

"Promises, promises."

"I mean it. Just a little lower. Aaahhhh. There! Bloody flaming…"

"What is going on in here?"

Gillian peeked around Cal's shoulder to find Annette in the doorway of Cal's new room. His regular, non-ICU room. She started to withdraw her hands from under Cal's newly acquired t-shirt. The nurse had tried to made him wear a hospital gown but he'd flat out refused. Gillian had been forced to make a run to his house or he might have made good on his threat to wear nothing but skin. Now sweat pants and t-shirt hung baggily on his diminished frame.

"Just a little bit more, luv? Please?" He sighed as she softly raked her nails up and down, across his shoulders and down his spine. His eyes closed in bliss, he tilted his head toward the PA. "Can't a man even get his back scratched around here without someone butting in?"

"Sounded pretty orgasmic to me." Annette shook her head with a grin.

"Almost as good as," Cal agreed, opening his eyes to give Gillian a impish look, his grin broadening at her blush.

"Get a room, you two."

Leaning back against the bed, Cal trapped Gillian's arm, still under his shirt, beneath him. "Well, I just checked into this room and I've got a few complaints for the management."

Annette raised her eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?"

"The service isn't too bad," Cal set his features into a disapproving look. "But the bed is too hard, the décor stinks, I'm not too fond of the midnight and four a.m. wake-up calls. And the food is really, really crappy."

Annette burst out laughing. "Is this what he's always like when he can talk?" She directed her question to Gillian. "We can always put the tube back in."

"Oh, no," Gillian gave her head a violent shake. "Don't even think about it!"

"She likes me better when I can talk," Cal gloated.

"Okay, buddy, since you don't like the luxury accommodations, why don't we talk about what we need to do to get you out of here?"

"You mean, send him home?" Gillian would have bolted upright if her arm were securely caught beneath Cal. She'd been practically living at the hospital for so long, the concept of home had almost disappeared from her mind.

"That's exactly what I mean."

"What do I have to do?" Every ounce of Cal's fierce concentration was now focus on the PA.

"First, we're working on changing all your meds to oral. Once we get that done, we'll have to wait to make sure you're tolerating them well."

"How long a wait?"

"Couple of days. Second, you have to start eating regular food and have a bowel movement."

"What?"

"Bowel movement. You know, poop."

Cal just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "I know what it means. That's it? That's all I gotta do?"

"Yup. It may not be as easy as it sounds. Your digestive system been on hiatus for a month. All the parts have to start functioning again. We're not going to let you out of here until we're sure that what goes in, comes back out. The last thing we want is to send you home only to have you back in a week with an obstructed intestine."

"What are we waiting for? Where's the food?"

"You already eating a full liquid diet. The next step is to start on some more solid food. You'll have to be careful, not too much at one time, and nothing too fatty. Without your gallbladder, you won't digest fatty food like you could before."

Cal pushed himself upright. "Gallbladder? What happened to my gall bladder?"

"We took it out. Did anyone tell you? Well, you've been pretty sedated, even if you were told you wouldn't remember. The surgery, the first night you were here, we took out your gallbladder."

He turned to scowl at Gillian. "Took out my gallbladder? What else am I missing?"

"They took out your spleen, too," Gillian ran her hand soothingly across his back. "They were both ruptured and bleeding. They had to come out or you might have bled to death."

Cal chewed it over, clearly confused and disturbed. Gillian could think of nothing to soften the blow. _What else haven't you told me_, she could see in his expression. She realized Cal didn't yet have a full comprehension of all that had happened to him. He'd only been totally unsedated for less than a week. She dreaded the conversation to come.

"Okay," he dismissed the subject for the moment, but she knew it was only for the moment. "All I have to do is eat and poop? Then I'm outta here? I can go back to work?"

Annette shook her head, "I doubt you'll be back to work right away. I see rehab in your future. But if your job isn't very active, you could probably go back part-time in two weeks to a month. Depending on how you do in rehab, of course."

"All I do is sit around and watch videos, yeah. And interview people. Right, Foster?"

"Well, lets see. In the past year, you've had a 19 year old girl beat you up," Gillian reminded him with a poke in the side.

"Oi, she only got one punch in. A wicked right, but only one punch." He protested, then explaining to the PA. "She was a multiple personality who'd witnessed a murder. I had to talk to the Protector personality."

"Took a beating in a prison."

"Guards broke it up before he did more than kick me a couple of times. Hardly constitute a beating."

"And what were you doing in a prison?" The PA questioned in astonishment.

"Trying to get a serial rapist to tell me what he knew about a copycat."

"Andrew Jenkins? I heard about that on the news. You were involved with that?"

"Yeah, Cal's the one that got the truth out of him." Gillian's pride shone in her voice.

"But you're the one who ended up in the hospital that time. I'm still sorry about that, luv."

"Not your fault," Gillian assured him. "But if you ever try the long con again, I'd appreciate if you'd let me know ahead of time. Now where was I? You were held hostage and pistol whipped."

"Wasn't my fault that plonker got in the building."

"But you offered yourself as hostage instead of Ria."

"Well, she'd never have been able to handle him. I almost had him talked into putting down the gun and walking out when the bloody cops showed up."

"Ben smashed you up against the wall."

"He told you about that, yeah? He was on the edge of quitting, I just wanted to get him fired up."

"You succeeded. You got shot by an undercover FBI agent."

"It was a blank and I had a vest on. You've got pretty good sources, Foster, to find out some of this."

"You were forty-five seconds from being blow to bits in Afghanistan."

He opened his mouth but could find no rebuttal. "You're right about that one. But I did get back in time for the Christmas party, though."

"And then you walk out to a tractor that may very well have been towing a trailer of explosives."

"That's not fair. We both knew that poor wanker didn't have any bomb."

"We didn't think so, but we weren't 100 percent sure."

"What was I supposed to do? Let the FBI atomize him?"

"My god!" They both turned to find Annette staring at them, mouth gaping. "What kind of people are you two?"

Heads swiveled back, with identical wide-eyed innocent looks. "Scientists?" Cal offered to Gillian.

"That's hardly all that you are," she said with equal parts exasperation and tolerant amusement.

His face turned sorrowful. "I don't think she's gonna want me to go back to work soon."


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 26**

It was here at last, the day Gillian had hoped for and feared would never happen. The day Cal could go home. After his second surgery, he'd improved so quickly even the doctors were impressed. So after only four days in a regular room, Dr. Slaungard was ready to release him.

Or so he said. The previous day, Slaungard had told her to be ready around noon. As much as Gillian had prayed for this day, she now wasn't sure she was ready for it. She'd frantically contacted the recommended rehab, informed Emily so she could have the house ready and collected all of their belonging from the room. Now at half past four, there was no doctor or paperwork in sight. Normally she considered herself a patient woman, but today she felt like screaming she'd worked herself into such a state. The opposite was true for Cal. She would have expected him to be acting like a caged tiger, but he peacefully napped as she fretted. Having a system full of heavy duty painkillers probably had something to do with the difference.

Finally, Annette entered the room with a fist full of papers. After a half hour of reading and signing, it was over. With some help from Gillian and the transport team, Cal transferred to a wheelchair for his journey to freedom.

"Ready?"

"Let's go, luv, before they change their minds." Cal grinned up at her.

Out the door they whisked. Down the hallway, they came to an abrupt halt when she saw most of the ICU nurses gathered at the nursing station. Damon, Missy, Steve, Eva, Wayne and all the others stood waiting with huge grins on their faces.

Damon stepped forward, "We just wanted to say goodbye to one of our success stories."

"Thank you," Gillian hugged each of them in turn. "I don't know what I would have done without you guys."

"It's been a pleasure knowing you," Eva kissed her cheek. "You're an inspiration."

"Take care of your lady and that pretty daughter of yours," Damon shook Cal's hand. "I've never seen two people more devoted."

Cal tried for a fatherly scowl, "Stay away from my daughter." But his grin couldn't be suppressed. "I will. They mean everything to me."

After a round of hugs, kisses and well wishes, Cal started to get antsy. "Thank you for all you've done. But, no offense, I hope I never see any of you ever again."

"And we don't want to see you back here again. Go home and get well."

"I will. Thank you. Chauffeur, drive on."

* * *

After a short stop at the pharmacy to pick up all Cal's prescriptions, they were finally on the way home. Cal simply enjoyed lying back, looking out the window and breathing non-hospital air. Gillian couldn't help but smile every time she looked at him but she just couldn't…

"What's wrong, darlin'?" came the soft query from the passenger seat.

Gillian swallowed her first impulse to deny any problem, to declare 'nothing'. If they wanted to survive as a couple, she knew her old habit of hiding her problems and feelings from him wouldn't work. Not for long. She no longer had the line and the rules to screen herself from him.

"I'm scared," she acknowledged.

This brought him up straighter. "Of what? Of me? Of us?"

"No, no, not that. It's just that…well…what if something happens?"

He reached over for her hand. "What are you afraid will happen?"

"Oh, I don't know," starting to feel a little silly. "What if you get sick or have trouble breathing…or anything? There's no call button at home."

"I don't understand."

"At the hospital, if your blood pressure went up or an alarm went off, all I had to do was push the call button and a nurse would be there in just a couple of minutes. Like when you had the fever…"

He shook his head slowly, "I don't remember any fever. I kinda feel like I just woke up a couple of days ago."

"That's part of the problem. You don't remember what it was like. You don't…"

"I'm sorry," he brought her hand to his lips. "I'm sorry you had to go through that alone. But I really don't remember."

"I know, its not your fault." She sighed. "I'm just afraid that something will happen and I won't know what to do. I'll make the wrong decision or not make it quick enough and you'll be the one to suffer for it."

"You're not alone now, Gill," his hand slowly slid down her cheek. "I'm awake and you don't have to make all the decisions by yourself. And we're only a phone call away the doctor. If it ever comes down to it, and I don't think it will, there's always 911."

She took her eyes off the road to risk a glance at him. "How are you feeling? Really?" A quick grin. "I'll know if you're lying."

A smirk, then his focus turned inward. "Weak. Tired, though I don't know why, I just slept for two hours. And if I hadn't just taken a dose of mega-drugs, I think I'd be in a shit load of hurt."

"Thank god for drugs then."

"Thank god for drugs," he agreed. "Doesn't really kill the pain, just makes it kinda distant. You know its there but you don't care. You know, if this…if you think…don't take this wrong…I could hire an aide if you don't want to be saddled this old broken down…"

"No," she protested vehemently. She wanted no one else touching him, helping him. Perhaps she was being selfish, but how could she trust his care to someone else after they've already been through so much. Unless… "But if you don't want…it might get…intimate…"

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather get intimate with," he reassured her with a cheeky grin. "If you're willing…don't feel like you have to…but I'd prefer you. I feel…I don't know…if we can do it together, I'm still independent…does that make sense?"

"It does," she squeezed his hand, pulling it to lay on her thigh. "Thank you."

"There's stuff we have to talk about, yeah. This, for one," his hand drifted up her thigh. "And about everything happened in the last month that I don't remember. Not now, not when you're driving. I want both of us to be able to look at each other. I don't want to have to hide what I'm feeling any more. I want you to see it all."

"Oh, Cal," she blinked rapidly. "I want you to see, too. And I want you to see all of me."


	27. Chapter 27

**Part 27**

Cal settled back into the loveseat, thoroughly enjoying being back in his own house with all his familiar things around him. Someone had taken great care to clean the place. Probably Emily, he could recognize some of her touches. She'd also cooked a delicious meal by herself. Sadly, he'd only been able to eat a small portion before his shrunken stomach had protested. Still, he was quite content, reclined back in the chair, his favorite mug filled with coffee in front of him, and soft music playing on the entertainment system. He could hear talking and giggling from the kitchen where his women finished the clean-up chores. Yes, a man could get used to this. He _wanted_ to get used to this. The two people he loved most in the world and himself combined into one family.

"Dad, you need anything else?" Emily called.

"No, darlin', I'm lovely."

Gillian's head peeked around the corner with a cheeky grin. "You certainly are."

"Don't be silly buggers and get yourselves out here. I'm getting lonely. I'm used to someone taking my temperature every ten minutes."

"Every four hours," Gillian corrected. "And I can go get the thermometer if it'd make you feel more at home."

"It'll be a very long time before I let you near me with one of those things," he retorted. "You must be done in there by now. Or am I interrupting important girl talk?"

"We were talking about you, Dad, so no, not important at all."

"I knew I should have spanked you more often as a child."

"You never spanked me at all." Emily flopped down on the chair across from him. "I was a model kid."

"You don't really want me telling Emily stories while Gill is here, do you?" he threatened.

She rolled her eyes. "She already knows about the Superman stunt. But no, I really don't want you spreading tall tales about my childhood."

"Tall tales? Have I ever been known to lie?"

"All the time, Dad." The teen's grin morphed into a more serious look. "It's so great having you back home. I really did miss you. So much."

"I'm sorry," he began.

"No, don't be sorry," Gillian ambled over and took the other half of the loveseat. "It wasn't your fault."

"But don't do it again, okay, Dad," Emily shivered. "It was horrendous. I wouldn't wish that on Jessica Loken."

"Jessica…" his brow furrowed in confusion.

"My worst enemy. Duh!" The teen smacked her own forehead.

He turned his head to meet Gillian's eyes. "Duh," they repeated.

"Listen," he swiveled back to his daughter. "Don't you have some homework or something to do?"

"But you just got home. I thought we'd…oh, I get it." She popped up from the chair. "Making myself scarce."

She leaned over to give him a hug and a kiss. "You two are finally getting together, aren't you?"

"Emily!"

"Well, I am an interested party to these proceedings."

"We'll let you know," Gillian assured her.

"Don't screw it up, Dad." She pecked the top of his head. "And don't be doing the nasty down here. No sexytimes. Remember you have an virginal teenager who might walk in on you at any time."

"Go!" Cal used his best thunderous father's voice.

Putting on her innocent face, Emily strolled up the stairs toward her room.

"I've raised a monster," Cal whispered in a horrified voice to Gillian who could barely contain her laughter. "Are you sure you want to be part of this freak show family?"

"Oh, yes," she cupped his face. "More than anything else in this world. I love Emily and I love her father even more."

Cal gulped. He would never get enough of hearing those words. Zoe had never been much for saying, I love you. The most he'd seemed to get from her was 'Me, too'. He hadn't been aware of how much he craved it until this moment.

"I love you, too." The words flowed easily for the woman he'd adored for fifteen years. "But we've got some things we should talk about."

She caressed his cheek then let her hand fall onto his thigh. "I know. You want to start?"

He felt the rush of being at the roulette wheel roar through him. No, not roulette. Not taking a crazy chance against impossible odds. More like poker, where he had a good hand, the odds were with him, he'd read the tells, but the luck of the draw was still a factor. Gillian represented the river card, she would have to tell him if he'd lost or won the whole pot.

"Why?" He amplified at her confusion. "Why now? We've known each other a long time. It isn't just because of the accident, is it?"

"In a way, yes," she turned to fully face him. "No, not what you're thinking. To pity or feel sorry for you never crossed my mind. Terror, now that I felt." He could see it as she relived the experience. "Worry. Stress. But not pity."

"Then why is it because of the accident?" he probed.

"I had a lot of time to think, sitting next to you." He watched the words try to form in her mind. "That accident didn't just happen to you. It happened to us. One of the things I realized, sitting there, was how much we were already an 'us'. We're already so much a part of each other's lives. We work together, we eat together, we spend holidays together. And I grasped how much I wanted it all. To be in every part of your life and to have you in every part of mine."

He'd never wanted to kiss a woman more than he wanted to kiss Gill in that moment. But he had to wait. There was more to say. He took a breath, knowing what he was about to say might be hurtful, but he needed to know the answer.

"Because you want to be in my life? Or you want to be in a man's life?"

As he expected a split second of surprise and pain flashed. He covered her hand with his own, trying to show her physically he wasn't rejecting her. She took a deep cleansing breath.

"You," she pulled his head down until their foreheads met. "Only you." She let out a slight chuff of laughter. "Oh, it was fun dating, meeting other men. But it was more fun watching you get spiffed up for me."

He drew back so he could see her face. "What?"

"The new haircut?" she grinned. "Not wearing the same wrinkled shirt for a week?"

He felt inexplicably pleased. "You noticed?"

"Oh, yeah, I noticed. Like you noticed my pink outfit."

"You look smashing in that outfit."

"Thanks. This is nothing new, Cal. I didn't start to love you because you were in an accident. I've loved you for a long time. But you were married, then I was married. I got divorce. It just didn't feel right to leap from one man's arms to yours. I wanted to give it some time. But then I almost lost you and I realized we don't _have_ all the time in the world. I don't want to let the time we might have together slip away while we play silly buggers."

He sat back, digesting all she'd said. "You've loved me a long time?" He summoned a grin, "Since we first met?"

"No," she grinned back. "I thought you were a stalker when you showed up in my class room. You scared the hell out of me."

He tried to mold his features into contriteness.

"Morocco, that's where I fell in love with you. You were trying to teach me the facial muscles used in different expressions, drawing on the faces of the local kids to demonstrate. They thought it was the best game they'd ever played."

"I remember that," he responded in some wonder. "So you fell in love with me 'cause I'm good with kids?"

"That was part of it. But mostly I could feel your…passion…your commitment. The intensity."

He would be blushing if he still knew how. "I fell in love with you on June 18th. Tuesday."

"What?"

"I don't remember what we were arguing about. But I looked at you and thought, God, I love this woman."

He knew it was risky, too ask this much in this first grand rush, but he braced higher, pushing Gillian softly back into the cushions. They kissed with the lushness of fresh-sprung love. And at long last, the loneliness of Cal Lightman's life stopped hurting. He thought a name over and over – Gill…Gill. A benediction, as the kiss deepened, firmer, fuller but still with a certain reserve – a man schooled to reject the possibility of miracles now forced to change his belief. They searched for and found a more intimate fit, enhanced by the sway and nod of heads that built the kiss into something more than either had expected.

Abruptly Cal stiffened, a spasm of pain cramping his back. He would have gasped if he'd been able.

"Cal," Gillian tried to squirm out from under him. "You all right?"

"Don't move," he couldn't muster more than a whisper. Deep breaths, he told himself, riding the wave as best he could. An eternity later, the cramp eased enough for him to slowly push himself back into the cushions. "Ouch."

"Are you okay?" Her scared concern blazed out of her eyes.

"Yeah. It's better now." He sighed the air from his lungs. "My back spasmed. Whew, that was not fun."

"Should I call the doctor?"

"Nah, no need for that. Annette said it might happen. I'll be fine. I mean it, no lies." He told her dubious face.

"Okay. Remember I'll be going to all your doctor appointments."

"I promise, I'll always tell you the truth. Besides you're one of the few who can tell when I'm lying."

"Damn, right, buddy."

He smiled up into her beautiful face. "Tell me again."

"What?"

"You know. Tell me."

She spread her fingers on his face, resting a thumb so near his mouth, he could almost taste it. "I love you."

"Once more. I got to hear it more."

"I love you."

"Will you get tired of me asking you to say it?"

"You won't have to ask."

"Neither will you. I love you." Another kiss, a hard short stamp of possession, then a demand filled with boyish impatience. "A shower. I would kill for a shower right now."


	28. Chapter 28

**Part 28**

"Are you sure you're ready to take a shower? You just got home from the hospital." Gillian cautioned.

"Course, I'm ready," he replied in a confident tone, but she could see the flicker of doubt.

"Well, let's get you into the bathroom and we'll see what we can work out." She got into the position taught her by the physical therapists. "Okay, on three."

She lifted, Cal pushed and soon they had him on his feet again. She rolled his walker in front of him. His nose crinkled, but he settled himself and started off.

"Wait, you're not thinking of going upstairs, are you?"

"But the…oh," he looked up the length of the stairs and then down at the walker. "That's not gonna work out for awhile, is it?" He spun himself around and headed for the guest bathroom. Suddenly he stopped, peering into her face. "What's that thought I see?"

Damn, the man. It was nearly impossible to surprise him with anything. "Get yourself into the bathroom and you'll see."

"Yes, boss," he smirked.

When he entered the room, his eyes opened wide, his expression between pleased surprise and consternation. The tub/shower combo had been replaced by a frosted glass shower stall and safety bars lined the wall at perfect grabbing height. Gillian scooted past Cal's immobile form to open the shower door. A fold-down seat had been built into one of the walls. Shelves were within easy reach and the nozzle replaced with a hand sprayer.

"You had this done?" he questioned quietly.

"Yeah. Well, I called Jeffrey and he arranged for the remodeler to come in. I thought…" she faltered at the blank expression she saw. "I thought it might be hard, at first…"

"Yeah," his voice toneless. He pushed into the room then sat heavily on the toilet seat. "You probably thought right."

"It's just until you get stronger," she tried to assure him, not liking the unreadable expression. "Anyone can use it. It's not like its only…"

"Only for broken old men?"

"Cal!"

"I'm sorry, luv," he summoned a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not your fault. You did good. If this is the only way I can get a shower, so be it. Why don't you go get me some clean clothes and we'll get the show on the road."

"I'll be right back." She took a moment to kiss his cheek and run her fingers through his oily hair.

When she returned it was to find him stripped down to his briefs, leaning heavily on the counter, staring into the mirror. His head turned slowly at her entrance, his features a study of horrified disgust.

She let herself look at him in away she hadn't for a long time. For weeks, she'd only let herself see the day by day minuscule progress. All the things as they healed and improved. She saw the fourteen inch long incision, still protected by the surgical staples down the center of his chest. The dressing over the trach wound. The scar from the chest tube. The bruising from the uncounted IV lines over both forearms. Skin stretched over sharp bone without the rounding of toned muscle.

And he was seeing it all for the first time, without the buffer of knowing it had once been even worse. She understood his visceral reaction, but she couldn't share it. She had seen him worse. Oh, so much worse. That he was standing on his own, breathing, talking and looking at her with clear, intelligent eyes was so miraculous for her, she could find no complaint about his current condition.

"Gillian?" he appealed, as vulnerable as she'd ever heard him. "What did they do to me?!"

Fearing he'd already been supporting his own weight longer than he should have, she helped him lower himself back to the toilet seat. She let the awareness of how fragile he'd become pierce her.

"You know you were in a car accident."

"Yeah," he nodded vaguely. "You know how it happened?"

"Not really, but I've got the police and insurance reports. You can read them later if you want to."

"Okay. What about...this?" He gestured sharply.

"Will start at the bottom and work to the top, okay?" At his nod, she began. "Your left ankle was smashed. You've got some hardware in there now, but you'll probably have to have more surgery later to straighten it out."

He glanced down at the obviously malformed joint. His attempt to move it was met with obvious resistance. "I'll work on getting it moving better in rehab, right?

"Yeah. Your pelvis was broken in two places."

His experimental shift brought a grimace to his face. "I thought something didn't feel quite right. No pins or screw?"

"No, they said the pelvis usually heal on its own quite well. But if it does shift it could cause bleeding and nerve damage. Not too much danger of that happening now, it seems to be healing well."

Looking more and more shell-shocked, Cal snorted. "Great, more rehab for that. You already told me about my gallbladder and spleen."

"They were both ruptured and bleeding, so they had to remove them," she confirmed. With nowhere else to sit, she eased herself to the floor at his feet.

"Any other organ they thought I wouldn't need any more?"

She tried not to react to his badgering tone. "No, they didn't remove anything else. But your lungs were badly bruised and your diaphragm ruptured. That's why you had to be on the ventilator."

"Ventilator?" Struggle evident on his face, his hand shifted toward her. She cradled it between both of her own, feeling the slight tremble. "You mean I couldn't breath on my own?"

Her own shock had to be a neon sign to a man with his skills. "You don't remember the ventilator?"

"I don't remember much of anything. I feel like a woke up just a couple of days ago. I've got some little bits and pieces but I can't tell real from dreaming. I'm pretty sure I wasn't really held hostage."

She returned his small grin. "No, never hostage, but they did put restraints on you after you tore the ventilator tube out."

"I did?"

"Yeah, caused quite a ruckus, too."

"Huh," he grunted, looking lost and bewildered. She raised up to her knees, and he willingly enfold her, holding her like an anchor. "I remember you. A little bit. Emily. Breathing because you told me I should. Hurting a lot. But none of it feels real. The last real thing I remember is going into the office that morning."

She'd been told by the doctors all of the sedation would keep him from recalling his experience. But being told and understanding were two different things. She hadn't understood he really wouldn't remember any of it.

"Maybe its for the best." She tried to see the good side of the situation, ignoring the wave of loneliness. "It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of experiences." She reasoned to his skeptical look.

"I don't like not knowing."

He wanted, needed to be in control, of the business, the lab, but mostly of himself. His control lapsed often enough, he knew the amount of damage he could cause when let off his internal leash. Not to mention his closely guarded privacy being shattered. A muscle in his jaw jerked.

"Cal, please," she gently turned his head back toward her. "It'll be okay. You're lucky to be alive, you know. The awful part is over and we can start moving forward again."

A sharp retort appeared on his lips, but he cut it off, staring intently into her eyes. She returned his gaze, letting him see whatever he needed. Slowly he relaxed, his tense shoulders slouching downward.

"Okay, luv." He leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. "We'll try it your way. So lets take a forward step into the shower."


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: **Sorry this isn't longer, but I didn't have time to finish the next scene and I wanted to get something posted. Besides my modem died, so I don't have DSL right now. Dial-up stinks. I can't afford to spend to much time on-line and block up my phone line.

**Part 29**

With some maneuvering, Cal found himself perched on the new shower seat. Experimenting with the sprayer, he found the temperature acceptable for his feet, so he proceeded to douse the rest of himself down. The hot water felt heavenly cascading over his head, down his chest and all over his itchy skin. It cut through days of old sweat and grime. He groaned at the sublime sensation.

"You all right in there?" came the slightly worried query.

"Lovely, darlin'" he groaned again. "You should join me."

"Some other time, okay." He could hear the blush in her voice.

Reaching out to the shelf, he snagged the shampoo and squirted it liberally on his oily head. Closing his eyes, he used the lather to scrub his face, slowing at the feel of the unfamiliar beard. He'd worn a beard in his youth for a short time, but he hadn't liked how red it grew. Now it contained entirely too much gray for his taste. Well, it could be disposed of easily enough. But the physical sign of time having passed without him being aware made him shiver.

Rinsing off his head, he grabbed the body wash and sponge. "Hey, Gill, thanks for bringing all my stuff down here. Nice having my own things again."

"You're welcome. How you doing?"

"No problem yet."

He gingerly soaped his chest, trying to avoid snagging any of the staples. He was going to have a hell of a scar. As he got lower, he realized he had something of a dilemma. Since he and Gillian hadn't done more than kissing and a little snuggling, he'd been reluctant to shuck down totally in front of her. Plus he hadn't been too pleased with the sight of the rest of his body. He needed to take a look himself before he was ready to show it all off to the love of his life. Gingerly he pulled out the waistband of his briefs and peeked inside. Okay, so far so good. He shuffled his bits around and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Cal?"

"Dangly bits all present and accounted for," he announced.

"Oh, Cal," she laughed.

"That's important information, that is." With that accomplished, he decided he had no need for a pair of soaking wet briefs clinging to him, so with a little maneuvering he peeled them down his hips. Flinging them over the shower wall, he heard them land with a wet splat.

"What are you doing?" came the outraged squawk.

"Getting rid of excess baggage," he shouted back.

He grinned at the silence and continued scrubbing. Once he'd reached every accessible place, he called, "I could use someone to scrub my back."

"Really? Or are you just messing with me?"

"Really. I can't reach enough to give it a good scrub."

"Okay. Do I need to close my eyes?"

"Nah, I got nothing I should be ashamed of." He'd never been a vain man, but there were some parts of him he could be justifiable proud. And she'd already seen everything else.

Wearing a overly large polo shirt, one Cal thought recognized as his own, and sweatpants, her hair pulled back and caught at the nape of her neck, her features devoid of make-up, Gillian had never looked more beautiful to him. Her eyes, her smile, the arc of her eyebrows, the length of her nose and the curve of her lips, Cal drank them all in. God, how could a woman like this love him, especially as broken as he now was? She'd stayed by his side through the worst of it, he knew, his few vague memories all contained her. But why? She said it was because she loved him and he wanted desperately to believe that, for he had loved her for years. Was he really the man for her?

She took the sponge unnoticed from his hand and began soaping up his back. Suddnely needing more, he twisted, pulling her close against him, letting hands rove over neck and shoulder. Her hands reciprocated, sliding up his back into his hair. He shivered and made a sound of gratification. His whole life he'd longed for someone to touch him this way, to touch the boy in him as well as the man, to soothe, reassure. The feel of fingers in his hair brought back a measure of all he'd missed. The mouth beneath his opened. He bit Gillian's lips and she bit his.

Sliding off the seat, he pulled her down with him, until they knelt together. She moved her hips in afterbeats, chasing the slow figure eights he made with his. He pushed against the pressure, needing more – more closeness, more contact, more Gillian, just more.

"Ouch," Gillian pressed him back.

"What?" he gasped.

"You're getting a little rough." She fingered a small welt on her lip where he'd apparently bitten too hard.

"I'm sorry, luv," he murmured in chagrin. ""I'd never want to hurt you."

Her own breathing still ragged, she grinned. "I think we might need to slow down a little bit." He followed her glance down between them.

His chagrin heightened. "Yeah, I noticed. It looks like the dangly bits are going to stay dangly."

"It's perfectly…"

"I know. I know. I just got out of the hospital…I've been through a trauma…it's to be expected…blah, blah, blah."

"Really, Cal…it's no big thing."

"Normally, in this situation it'd be a moderately large thing."

Blushing, she managed a grin, "Tonight, it's a very nice thing just the way it is."

He pulled her back against his chest. "You know, I could…if you want me to…I don't need that to make you happy."

Her hands skimmed down his slick back, then over his butt. "Not tonight, Cal. For our first time, I want us together. Not just you doing for me, or me doing for you. But together. Is that okay?"

"There'll be a first time?" he let his apprehension slip.

"I promise. Now lets get you dried off before you catch a chill."

A wave of weakness and exhaustion hit him as he tried to push himself upright. Moving his body had never been this difficult before. "I'll need some help."

"It's been a long and hard day. I think you're about ready for bed, aren't you?"

"I hate to say it, but, yeah, I think so. Help me get up, dressed and I'll toddle off to bed." He also hated to admit but, "I think I'll need some of my pain pills too."

Without too much hardship, they got him into the spare bedroom, where he found his own bed and dresser had been moved. The bed never felt as wonderful.

"I'm gonna stay up for a while longer," Gillian announced. "Will you be okay?"

He frowned slightly in disappointment. "Sure. I'll be fine. Good night."

"Good night, love. Sleep well."


	30. Chapter 30

**Part 30**

Gillian tidied up the bathroom after seeing Cal to sleep, then picked up the few random things they'd left in the living room. He'd been exhausted but she still felt the sting of adrenaline in her veins. He'd finally come home, safe. Not yet at the end of the ordeal, still, they could celebrate a major milestone. She wiped at the tears gently streaming down her face. After all these weeks of stress and worry, he was finally home.

And after their little sessions on the couch and in the shower, she admitted to herself, she was still quite aroused. Even now, she could smell his freshly washed skin and feel his wet slick back under her hands and his hands roving over her. And she wanted more. She wanted it all, she didn't want to just image what it would be like anymore. The few kisses they'd shared were already better than her fantasies. It had been so long since she'd been sexual with anyone, her body ached with unrelieved excitement.

Not that she blamed Cal. He'd already offered her more than she thought his poor abused body would be capable of. She'd desperately wanted to take up his obvious suggestion of sleeping beside him. But she had no desire to add any more pressure to what he already clearly felt. In her present mood, she didn't think she could just lie beside without desiring more, more touching, more kissing. And he would try to please her, she knew he would. She didn't want him to have to continually crash against the wall of all the things his body wouldn't let him do.

Still fairly early evening, she prowled around the room, searching for something to help her settle down. Finally she grabbed his latest book and flopped on the couch, tucking her feet under her butt. Of course, she'd read it before – even done a fair amount of the editing - but this was Cal at his peak, the words blunt, aggressive, humorous with a more than a fair amount of ego between the lines. It spoke of clinical research without being boring or incomprehensible, human truth in human language. Even though he'd promised not to mention her by name, she could recognize herself in some of the stories, could feel the respect and affection. She wondered if she could get him to narrate the audio book the publisher had proposed. She loved listening to his voice, though she supposed the accent could make him hard for other people to understand at times. So accustomed to the rhythm and cadence of his speech, she rarely even thought about it any more. Now she thanked whatever deity in charge for the chance to continue hearing it.

Skimming through the chapters, she stopped suddenly to listen. Music from Emily's room could be heard faintly, but she could hear nothing from the guest room. Was he sleeping all right? She strained to detect any sound or movement. Should she go check?

If he was having difficulty, would he be able to call out? Unable to stop herself, she rose from the couch and padded to the bedroom.

Cal lay sprawled over the bed, half on his stomach and half on his side. He'd discarded the t-shirt he'd been wearing when she'd tucked him in, his tattoos plainly visible in the light from the hallway. Watching intently, she tried to detect the rise and fall of his chest. She stepped closer, a spike of fear in her throat. He was breathing, wasn't he? Apprehension made her lay her hand on his bare back. Oh yes, nice steady rhythm from his cool fever-free back. Gillian, you're being a worrywart, she scolded herself, as she snuck back out of the room. He's fine. He's going to be fine. He doesn't need you motherhenning him.

That little voice didn't stop her from making two more trips that evening to check on his breathing.

Cal woke to a soft hand pressing between his shoulder blades. "Gill?" he whispered groggily.

"Go back to sleep, Cal, I didn't mean to wake you."

He rolled slightly so he could see her. She wore an almost knee length t-shirt, obviously prepared for sleep. "Something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong. Just wanted to check up on you before I went to bed."

He could read the slight embarrassment on her face. "I'm fine. Listen," he snagged her hand before she could move away. "This is a big bed. You could bunk in here with me."

Attraction, then hesitation. "Come 'ere," he urged. "We'll both sleep better. You won't have to be worrying about me half the house away."

She grimaced her discomfiture. "Have I been waking you up?"

"No problem, luv." He pulled her closer. "Just climb in here. You know you want to."

"Yeah, I do," she agreed with a sheepish grin. "Move over."

He drew in his limbs to give her room, allowed her to settle beneath the blanket, then threw said limbs over her. Oh, yes, this was his version of heaven. Two warm bodies, arms and legs entwined, he could feel her heartbeat beneath his arm. He let his breath out in a soft hum of appreciation.

"Are you purring?" He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Close enough, luv." He opened his mouth, hesitated over whether to tell her something so silly, then decided if he couldn't tell her something like this, who could he tell. "Want to hear something stupid?"

"Sure." She turned slightly to face him.

"After Zoe walked out." He could feel her tense slightly. "When I did laundry, I didn't put the clothes away. I stacked them on her side of the bed."

"Why?" she asked with confused curiosity.

"That's what I missed most. Sleeping with someone." He was glad the darkness hid his expression. "Emily thought I was just being a slob but the clothes made it feel there was still another body beside me, yeah. Stupid, I know, but it was the only way I could sleep."

She nodded slightly. "I know the feeling. It's hard to face a suddenly empty bed. Not that Alec was there much the last year." She cleared her throat. "So how often is the other side of the bed empty these days?"

"You're the first one since Zoe left," he confided.

"Cal, you can't really ask me to believe that. I know you slept with Zoe at the very least."

"No, I had sex with her," he clarified. "I never slept the night with her." He could still feel her disbelief. "I'm not trying to convince you I've been celibate. You know I haven't. But no woman's spent the night in my bed since the divorce. Nor have I spent the night in theirs. You're the first, luv."

He waited as she absorbed his disclosure. "It's very…intimate, sleeping together, isn't it?" she spoke hesitantly. "Vulnerable?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep next to someone I didn't really trust. Facing the daylight, with morning breath, pillow marks on your face and bed head is not something you want to do with just anyone." He gave a little laugh. "Not to mention, having a teenage daughter you don't want to encourage."

Her soft chuckle died as she considered her next question. "And you trust me?"

"With my life, Gill." He hesitated, "And my heart. Right now I think it's the only thing inside me still intact." He didn't verbalize the plea not to break it. He wouldn't be able to take it if this didn't work. Failing with Zoe had been a blow to his ego. Losing Gillian would shatter his embattled soul.

Her hand flowed over the side of his face, descended down his neck, over his shoulder to capture his own hand. He shivered at the caress. She directed his hand to her chest just above the breast he hoped to explore some day in the future.

"I don't have one any more," she whispered.

"Wha'?" Distracted by the position of his hand, he must have missed the part of the conversation.

"A heart," she clarified. "I don't have one any more. I gave it to you."

He closed his eyes at the burning sting behind them. "Maudlin mush," he croaked. When he had his emotions back under some semblance of control, he pushed up on his elbow, leaning over her. "I think we traded then, because you've always had mine." A butterfly kiss on each eyelid, then lower on the tip of her nose. " I just couldn't admit it to you."

"I'm sorry I waited so long." She nuzzled along his collarbone.

"Don't be sorry, luv." He lowered himself back alongside her, betrayed by the quivering muscles in his arm. "The past is the past and we're moving forward, remember? Now what's your opinion about second marriages?"

He felt her gasp beneath him. "Cal?! You don't…I mean…it's a little soon to be talking about marriage, isn't it? We haven't even had a first date!"

He chuckled. "We've known each for almost fifteen years. We don't have to mess about with the whole 'getting to know you' thing, do we?"

"No, but…Cal."

He knew he was pushing, but the darkness and their intimate position seemed to invite confidences. "That's where we're heading, though, isn't it? At least I hope so. You know I can't do things halfway. I'm not really the 'boyfriend' type either, am I? If we're going to be together, I want us to be totally together. I guess I'm asking if you feel the same way."

She was silent so long he thought his heart would explode. "There were a lot of things about being married I liked," came her soft tentative voice.

"Me, too," he agreed, his throat tight with tension.

"And some things I hated."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"It's a big risk."

"Yeah, it is. But if we're gonna try to make a go of it," he coughed to clear his throat. "Being married wouldn't make it more risky. If it doesn't work…even if we…it'll still…"

"Be devastating whether we're married or not," she said what he couldn't.

"Yeah."

They both lie silently until a laugh burst from her chest. "Wha?"

She rolled until they were face to face. "You know as a marriage proposal that really sucks."

"Well, I didn't intend…not really…well sorta…I guess I did…kinda…I don't mean right away."

"No running out to a judge tomorrow?" she giggled.

He let his own laughter out. "No, I think we might give it a little more time than that. You deserve the whole wining and dining thing, darlin'. You know, little presents, romantic dinners. Weekend getaways."

"Um, sounds good." Her hand skated up and down his arm. He closed his eyes at the delicious sensation. His own hand tangled itself in her hair. He loved finally being able to touch her properly. He loved even more being touched by her. "Yes."

"Yes, to what?" not sure which question she was answering.

"You asked for my view of second marriages. I approve, wholeheartedly."

"Thank you, luv." Relief flooding over him, he rolled over to kiss her, but he couldn't suppress a huge yawn.

She lifted herself to glance at the clock. "It's past two. We both need to get to sleep. Your appointment's at nine."

He didn't think he'd have been able to hold off the need to close his eyes much longer anyway. He gathered her closer, so close they shared the same pillow.

"Good night, my love," he whispered in her ear.

"Sweet dreams."


	31. Chapter 31

Author's Note: I know this part is really short, but the next part will be fairly long and angsty. I'm having a little trouble getting it quite right. So rather than post it all before I'm really ready, I thought I'd post this to give you something to go on, while I polish up the next section. Hope it will be worth the wait.

**Part 31**

Over the next week, they fell into a routine. Up in the morning, Gillian took a shower while Cal insisted on dressing himself. Emily made a quick breakfast for all three of them. They dropped Emily off at school, then Cal at rehab while Gillian made her way to the office. Once there she met with clients who'd been put off for the last month. Around noon, she packed up and picked Cal up at the rehab and they enjoyed a leisurely lunch at home. After lunch, Cal usually napped and Gillian logged back on at work. Emily's friend, Rick, dropped her off after school usually around the time Cal was waking from his nap. A couple of nights Rick stayed for supper with a minimum of grumbling from Cal. Then they had a quiet evening before retiring for the night.

Gillian had, for all intents and purposes, moved in with Cal. She slept in his bed every night and more of her possessions appeared every day. Neither Cal or Emily said anything when they noticed new Gill stuff, but she'd seen them share a grin. She'd been just a touch embarrassed at first, but now it just natural for her to claim the house and family as her own.

She'd imagined her life would become less stressful when Cal was released from the hospital. She'd been wrong. There was never enough hours in the day to complete all the tasks she'd set for herself. Cal tried to help but most of his resources went to rehab and just doing the basic things around the house. Taking a shower exhausted him, his attempt at laundry cost him hours of lower back spasms and cooking proved beyond his current capabilities. He'd offered to assist with the Group's accounting reports, but she knew he hated dealing with the financial end of the business. She found it easier and faster to just do it herself.

Friday found her exhausted and praying for the weekend. Not that she could really relax even then. Reports, reviews and research still had to be read and approved. Sighing, she laid her head on her desk. Almost time to pick up Cal and she'd only completed half of what she needed to do. She should have been celebrating amount of business and the number of billable hours from the previous week, but she just felt overwhelmed.

Enough whining, she told herself sternly. Cal's alive, he's home and getting better every day. He loves me and I love him. What more can I ask for? Resolutely, she logged off and shut down her computer, picked up her bag and headed out to pick up Cal.

* * *

Gillian marveled again how sparkling clean the rehab building was as she entered the front door. The place buzzed with energy. The receptionist gave her a wave and announced, "Room two," before she could get within ten steps. Already Gillian knew her way to most of the therapy rooms. She spotted Amy, Cal's therapist, in her office as she rounded the corner.

"Hi, Gillian. I've got him in the whirlpool right now. I'd like him to spend another ten minutes, if you don't mind waiting."

"No, I don't mind." She pulled up a chair. "How's he doing?"

"Great," the therapist enthused. "I wish all my patients had his determination. He's put on almost five pounds of good solid muscle."

"That's good," but Gillian could read concern on Amy's expressive face. "But…"

"He's doing really well with the crutches instead of the walker, but he's hit a slight plateau. The last couple of days he hasn't made the progress he thinks he should. I'm not concerned with that. His progress is perfectly normal, even beyond what I hoped for. But he doesn't do anything halfway, does he?"

"No," Gillian agreed with a rueful grin. "He doesn't know how."

"I'm afraid he might be pushing himself too hard. I tried to cut down a little today, the body needs time to recover from the stress we put on it, not to mention how much trauma he has that still needs to heal. But he noticed and didn't like it at all. He's getting frustrated."

"He hasn't been taking it out on you, has he?"

"No. I'm used to that. Doesn't really bother me. He does everything I ask of him and more, with hardly any complaint. I'm something of a student of body language, nothing like you two, but I can generally tell when something's up. And he was a bit of a crab today."

"A bit?"

She smiled. "A few bloody hells and a couple shits."

"Fairly mild. No pointed finger in your face?"

"Not yet. I've tried to explain he's not going to heal over night. Like it or not, he's in for a long haul. Maybe it would help if you mentioned he could try to slow down a little bit."

"I can try," Gill answered skeptically. "Sometimes I can get him to listen to me. But I'm not guaranteeing anything."

"All any of us can do is try. I'm not afraid he'll give up. But I am afraid he'll try something he's not ready for and only end up setting himself back. Try to convince him he's right at the point he should be."

"Okay, I'll give it a shot."


	32. Chapter 32

**Hope this is worth the wait.**

**Part 32**

Dropping his crutches, Cal flopped down into his favorite chair. His ankle sent sharp spikes of pain up his leg with each heart beat and his hips ached no matter what position he tried. The whirlpool at the rehab had helped but not nearly enough. He considered taking his pain pills, but they pretty much took him out of the game. He wanted a least a little more time of alertness.

His body had never betrayed him like this before. In spite of all his adventures, he'd never been seriously injured. A couple of minor broken bones but nothing of this severity. Rarely even sick, he had no experience dealing with incapacity. And he hated it. The constant pain, the weakness and exhaustion over doing the smallest task. For all his doctorates and degrees, he was a man who did, moved, sought release in action. Now taking a shower was a major production and required assistance. And he had no idea how to deal with it. It wasn't something he could fight or manipulate. All of his efforts in rehab and home brought bloody little improvement. No long con or creative trickery could help him overcome this obstacle.

The doorbell interrupted his dour thoughts. Leaning forward he started the maneuver he'd been taught to stand without assistance. No longer just a bounce and away, he struggled through the ten-step procedure. But at least it was something he could now do on his own.

"I've got it," Gillian called from the kitchen to his frustration. "You just stay put and rest."

"Eli!" he heard as she answered the door. "What are you doing here? Come on in."

"You forgot the Ashland report you said you were going to finish this weekend, so I thought I'd just drop it off on the way home." Loker's tall, mop-haired figure strolled into the living room. "Hey, Dr. Lightman. You're looking…well…not very good…like shit, really…but better than the last time I saw you. Right after surgery, you looked gross, now you only look like a concentration camp inmate. Wow, how much weight did you lose?"

"Almost thirty pounds," Gillian supplied distractedly as she paged through the blue folder. "But he's gained four back since he's been home."

"Thirty pounds," he whistled softly through his teeth. "He must weigh less than you do, Dr. Foster." He missed Gillian's slightly offended look while he smiled brightly at Cal. "But at least you don't have all those tubes and wires stuck in you. That was way scary. You know you're really lucky to be alive."

Cal wondered if he could make someone spontaneously combust using only his will. Intensifying the power of his glare, he gave it his best shot. "Thank you for your professional opinion."

For someone trained in observation, Loker could be frighteningly oblivious at times. Like now. "Looks like it'll be awhile before you're back at work. I mean a puff of wind would blow you away right now. Torres could kick the crap out of you. Well, Torres could probably kick the crap out of me too, but you know what I mean."

"Yes," Cal hissed. "Loker…"

"Eli, thanks for dropping this off," Gillian steered Loker toward the door, throwing a nervous glance at Cal over his shoulder. "We don't want to keep you from starting your weekend."

His teeth clenched together so hard his jaw ached, Cal barely heard the quick good-byes at the door.

"Can we fire him?" he ground when Gillian reappeared.

"No," she denied firmly. "At least not until you get back to the office. We're short-staffed as it is."

"I could go in…"

"No, Cal, you can't. Not yet. It's only been a week since you got out of the hospital."

If any throwable had been close at hand it would now be in pieces, smashed against the wall. "A week's long enough. I need to _do_ something."

Gillian rubbed a tired hand across her forehead. "I know you're frustrated, Cal. I know it's hard for you. But you've got to back off a little bit. You know you are…"

"Don't say it," he warned.

"It's true." She approached the back of the chair and laid gentle hands on his shoulders. "You're lucky to be alive."

He threw himself forward, out of her reach. "And I can't tell you how sick I am of hearing that. I don't feel lucky at all."

He didn't have to see her face to feel her pained confusion. "Cal, you can't mean that. You don't want…you wouldn't rather be…dead? Would you?"

"No!" he exploded. "'Course I don't wanna be dead." He struggled to his feet, needing to move, to face her on a even level, tired of looking up at people. "But that doesn't mean I feel lucky. I wake up one morning to a shattered body and my life turned upside down. How is that lucky?"

He stepped forward, ignoring his body's frantic messages to stop. "My ankle hurts like a bastard. I can't be in any position too long or I get muscle spasms. I can't walk half a block without my lungs feeling like I have a ten pack a day cigarette habit. The woman I love tells me she loves me back and I can't even make love with her like she deserves. Tell me how is that lucky?"

"Oh, Cal, that'll wait." She reached an hand toward his face. "I don't expect anything right now. It's okay…"

He dodged her hand. "It's not okay. It's all bullshit. Nothing works. Everything is can't, can't, can't."

"But you're so much better than you were. If only you knew how bad it was…"

"But I don't remember!" His voice rose. "Don't you see that makes it worse. I don't have a bloody clue what happened. You could have thrown me off the balcony for all I remember."

"I didn't." A small smile lifted her lips. "Not that there haven't been times when I wanted to."

He gave a grunt in acknowledgement, struggling for words. He knew he'd never been an eloquent man, but he usually didn't lack for words. Blunt, tactless words, almost certainly alienating those at whom he aimed them. But he didn't want to alienate Gillian, not now, not when they were so close. If it had been Zoe facing him, he would have just let rip with all his anger. And she would have fought back, relishing every second of the combat. But this wasn't Zoe. It was Gillian and his words could hurt her in a way they never really hurt Zoe. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Gill, but he required her understanding. She had to understand how all this was driving him crazy. How he needed to be capable. Of something. Anything.

"Cal, I know…"

"You don't know." He cut her off again, fighting to keep his voice even. "You've told me how bad it was. I look at myself and I can see I'm a mess. But its not the same as remembering. A month of my life is missing and if the doctors are right, I'll never remember it. You can't tell me that you know how that feels."

"You're right," she held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I don't know. I can't. There's nothing I can do to give you that month back. But _I_ wouldn't mind being able to forget." She shivered. "It was the worst thing that's ever happened to us. That's why it's so hard for me to feel upset now." She took a deep breath to try to stop the shaking of her voice. "Every day I'd walk into that hospital and see you so close to death. A machine breathing for you. The nurses suctioning blood out of your lungs. Fevers they couldn't find a cause for. But then you got better. And you kept on getting better. And you're here now. Home. Don't you see what a miracle that is?"

He rubbed a shaking hand over his eyes. "It doesn't feel like a miracle to me. Feels like a bloody catastrophe." He held up a hand to stall the protest he could see on her lips. "I'm glad to be alive. I truly am. But I hurt, Gillian. All the bloody time. I can't get away from it. I take the damned pills but they just make me stupid. Being lucky would have been avoiding the accident in the first place. This is hell."

"Oh, Cal," she sighed. "I would give anything to be able to help."

"I know. I know." He leaned his back against the wall, balancing on his good leg. "You try your damnedest, don't you, luv? And I love you for it. But what about you, Gillian? Don't you think I see what you're doing to yourself? You're running yourself ragged trying to take care of me and do two people's work at the Group. You wake up ten times a night to make sure I'm still breathing. I want to take care of you too. But you won't let me help."

"Cal," she grimaced. "It takes all your energy just to get through rehab. And you push too hard there. The therapist said…"

"I don't care," he shouted. "I'm not freaking helpless, not anymore. There are things I can do."

"What?" she snapped back, her own frustration finally breaking through. "You tried to do the laundry and ended up in such pain you could barely talk. You darn near collapsed doing dishes. I can't stand to see you in so much pain."

His eyes narrowed. "I could analyze videos. Edit research papers. Hell, I could do the bloody billing statements."

She huffed out a laugh. "Last time you took three days to do what should have taken three hours."

"That's because they're a bloody bore, but I'm perfectly capable of doing them. I may not be able to walk without damned crutches but I can still add and subtract."

"It's just easier…"

"To do them yourself," he growled. "Aren't we partners? Isn't my name on the wall? I shouldn't have to ask you to _let_ me help."

"Yes, we're partners, but you've run off and made decisions about the company without consulting me before."

"Look how well that turned out," he scowled. "And don't be throwing the past in my face as a diversion. I shouldn't need your permission to work in my own freaking company."

Her shoulders slumping, she closed her eyes. "You're right, Cal," she sighed. "I don't mean to make you feel like that. It's just…I'm afraid. You don't know your limits. You barely admit you have limits. You need to stop pushing so hard or you're going to end up back in the hospital."

"So will you. You're exhausting yourself, luv." He reeled her in until she rested against his chest. "I hate to see you doing this to yourself because of me. We've got to work out a better way."

She nodded against his collarbone, her arms sneaking around his waist. "I can't tell you how tired I am."

"I know, luv. It hurts to see you like this." Brushing her hair aside, he laid his cheek against hers. "Why don't you take the night off? Go home, do something girly, like read that romantic trash you like so much. Get a good night's sleep for once."

Her hair caught in his beard as she shook her head. "I couldn't. You're supposed to have someone here twenty-four/seven, remember?"

He glanced at the clock. "Em'll be here in just about an hour. I can take care of myself for that long."

"You can't ask Emily to do…you know…the kind of…personal stuff I've been helping with."

He could feel the warmth of her blush against his cheek, his heart swelling with love. "I can skip the shower for one night. It won't hurt me. Everything else of a more personal nature, I can manage by myself. The only thing she'll need to do is cook. Or we could just order a pizza."

Her resistance was waning. "It does sound nice. But I'd just worry about what kind of trouble you'd find."

"I promise to behave myself in your absence." He tilted her head back so she could read his face.

"Do I dare believe that?" A crooked grin lifted her lips.

"Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No," she admitted readily.

"And I won't now. I promise I won't do anything more strenuous than play some games with Emily. Then I'll toddle off to bed early like a good boy."

"When have you ever been a good boy?"

"Starting tonight," he grinned back. "Really, Gill, take tonight and don't worry about me. Em and I will be fine. And you know if I did do something I'm not supposed to, she'd just rat me out."

She gave a decisive nod. "All right, I will. Taking a night break from each other might be what we need to get our heads together. Tomorrow we can work out something we both can live with. But I'll hold you to your word for tonight, mister."

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a boy scout."

"Never too late to start. Now get your coat and your keys and get out of here."

"Alright, I will."

"And don't forget. I love you."


	33. Chapter 33

**Part 33**

Gillian considered going back to the office. Work piled so high on her desk now, and she was supposed to take an afternoon off and relax? Just the thought of those stacks made her grind her teeth. But Cal was right about one thing. She was tired, exhausted really. Would one afternoon and evening really make that much difference in the amount of work on her desk? Maybe one good night of sleep would help prevent her from making some of the silly errors she'd been making lately.

At the intersection, she sat, still undecided. Right, back to the office, left, her apartment. Right or left? _You told Cal you'd take it easy tonight_, a little voice reminded. _You don't want to start lying to him already, do you? _Another little voice nagged about the files on her desk. With a sudden grin, she turned left. _The world can live without me for just one night_.

On a whim, she stopped at the small grocery near her place and bought the ingredients for chocolate cookies. She hadn't baked anything for longer than she could remember. Cookies, especially fresh baked out of the oven, always made her feel good. Unlocking the door, she dropped her bag and mail on the nearest table, vowing to not even look at it again until morning, then made her way into the kitchen.

Soon she was happily mixing dough, not even needing to glance at a cookbook. Her grandmother had taught her this recipe when she was still young enough to need a stepstool to see the counter. Gillian smiled at the memories. Grandma Annie was a strange mix of traditionalist and feminist. Having been raised on a farm, she'd worked just as hard in the fields as any of the boys. She firmly believed none of her granddaughters should be limited in what they chose to do with their lives. But she taught each and every one of them how to cook, bake and take care of a house and couldn't stop herself from cuddling any baby within reach. Gillian had always considered her one of her best role models.

Wiping the cookie sheets in preparation, Gillian startled when the doorbell rang. For a moment, she thought of not answering it. Who could know she was here? But her curiosity got the better of her, so she headed for the door, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Alec!" she greeted, surprised and a touch wary. She hadn't seen or talked to her ex-husband for almost three months.

"Hi, Gill. I've been trying to get a hold of you for a couple of weeks. Is everything okay?"

"Well…" she hesitated, not sure how much she wanted Alec to know. "The last six weeks haven't been much fun."

"What happened?"

"Cal was in a car accident."

"Oh, no! Is he okay?"

She was a little surprised to see his genuine concern. He and Cal had never been best buddies. "He will be. He just got out of the hospital last week. He's doing much better now."

"Glad to hear that." His lips twitched in a small, rueful smile. "I guess that explains why I couldn't get a hold of you. You've been staying with him?"

Gillian lifted her chin, not wanting hide any part of her relationship with Cal. "Yeah, I have."

"Listen, can I come in? I'll only be a minute, just a couple of things I want to say to you."

Gill hesitated. "I don't know, Alec. I really don't want to go over…"

"No, nothing like that." He grimaced, his eyes shifting down and leftward. "It's part of my program."

She ducked her head to see his eyes. No tell-tale glassy sheen. "Okay, come on in. But just for a minute."

Moving to the living room, they both stood in nervous silence for a long moment. Turning, Alec's eyes skittered around her face, to the floor and back to her face again.

"Part of my program is atoning to people I wronged when I was using. You're the first and most important." His head come up, establishing firm eye contact. "I'm so sorry for what I put you through."

Gillian took a step back in shock. Alec had never apologized to her before, not about this. Excuses, oh, she'd heard excuses by the truckload. Never his fault, always the blame lay in his job, in losing Sophie, in her. It's what had finally driven her out.

"I mean it, Gillian. I'm very sorry for how I treated you." His lips quirked upward. "You can tell I'm sincere, right? By those micro-thingies."

"Expressions," she mumbled, still in shock. "Micro-expressions."

"Yeah, them." The smile faded from his face. "I was wrong. About how I acted after they took Sophie. For turning to coke because I couldn't cope with my own life. For blaming you for everything. For having an affair. For all the lies and betrayal. I was stupid and I was wrong."

"You still with her?" she whispered.

"No," he denied. "There's a reason the Program discourages different sex sponsors. It just screwed up both of us, even worse. Running away from problems doesn't help. I've got to start facing my responsibilities."

She let herself smile. "So this new program is really helping?"

"Yeah, it is. They're tough on you, but I've been clean six months now."

"I'm so glad for you," she touched his hand.

He gave her hand a quick pat. "Thanks. Well, that's about all I wanted to say. I'm sorry I've been such a jerk and I hope we can someday be friends again."

"Alec," she frowned. "You're not hoping…"

"That we can get back together again?" he supplied. "No. No, that's…the past now…we really weren't meant to be, were we?"

"I did love you."

"I know. You loved me as much as you could. You always wanted the best for me." He adjusted his glasses with a nervous gesture. "But you never loved me like you love him, did you?"

She almost denied it, like she'd denied it for so many years of their marriage. No, not any more. "I'm sorry, Alec. I'm sorry I hurt you. But I do love him." A weight seemed to leave her shoulders as she said the words.

"I know." He looked down at his shuffling feet. "I guess I've always known."

"I never meant to hurt you. I really thought we could have a good marriage."

"And we did." He gave her a crooked smile. "At first. You stuck with me as long as I let you. I guess both of can take part of the blame. Does he know how much you love him?"

She couldn't keep the beaming smile off her face. "He does now. And he loves me back."

A second of anger and jealousy smoothed to a genuine smile. "I'm glad for you." He held up his hand at her quirked eyebrow. "Okay, a little bit jealous. But mainly I'm happy."

Her smile melted into contrition. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, Gillian. Like I said before, we just weren't meant to be. Just be happy."

"I am. I want you to be happy too."

"I working on it," he assured her. "Oh, something else I wanted to tell you. I've got a new job. I'm transferring to the Ambassador of South Korea's staff."

"You've moving to Korea?"

"Yeah. I thought it best if I get out of DC for awhile. And I'll get to use the Korean I studied so hard to learn."

"Is it what you want?"

He considered silently for a second. "Yeah. I think it'll be a really good thing for me. Sorta start with a clean slate again."

"I'm glad."

"Well, that's it," he slapped his hands together. "That's all I wanted to tell you. I'll get out of your hair now."

She walked him to the door. "Thank you for coming, Alec. It was very brave."

He twisted his face into a comical grimace. "I admit I was scared silly. But I feel better now that I've said it. Take care of yourself, Gillian. And tell Cal I hope he's feeling better."

"I will. Thank you." She leaned forward to press a small kiss on his cheek. "You take care of yourself too."

As she closed the door behind him, she leaned her head against it, trying to take in all he'd said.


	34. Chapter 34

**Part 34**

Cal slapped the laptop shut with a flourish of triumph. After Gillian left, he'd taken the new pain pills the doctor had switched him to after he'd complained about how loopy the old ones made him feel. And they were doing a darn good job. The throbbing in his ankle had decreased to a tolerable ache, his back felt loose for the first time in days, yet his mind was still relatively clear. He'd used the respite from pain to attempt to ease Gillian's workload. She'd conveniently left his laptop and it took him no time to log into their network. Once in, he quickly found the billing program and set to work. Less than an hour later, he'd finished the billing statements, sending them to be printed and mailed. _See, I can be useful_, he patted himself on the back.

Just as he was thinking of taking the long trek into the kitchen for a celebratory libation, he heard the front door open.

"Just me, Dad," came the call from the entry way.

"Hey, Em," he greeted.

"And me," Zoe entered, pulling off her coat and scarf.

Another day, he might have been flustered by her sudden presence, but with the drugs in his system and his latest, although minor, triumph, he felt amazingly mellow.

"Hi, Zoe," he leaned back into the couch, reaching up to accept Emily's greeting hug and kiss.

"You're looking better than the last time I saw you." Zoe remarked. "I don't think I've ever seen you that skinny before, though."

"Yeah, so everyone tells me," he groused. "Are you here to drop Em off or just to harass me for awhile?"

"Where's your princess?" Zoe made an obvious scan of the room. "Or is there trouble in paradise already?"

"Mom…" Emily warned.

Cal let himself slide further down into the sofa's cushions. "Pull the claws in, Zoe," he answered mildly. "Not that its any of your business, but I sent Gillian home for some rest and relaxation. She needed a break."

She flipped her hair away from her face. "So you're all alone tonight?"

"I was until my favorite daughter showed up."

"Well, I could keep you company for awhile."

He smiled, enjoying her confusion at his lack of reaction. "Naw, we'd just end up in a fight. We always do."

"Not always."

He recognized the gleam in her eye and for the first time wanted no part of it. "Em, why don't you go upstairs and finish your homework? Your mom and I need to settle some things."

"Dad…" Emily stared at him beseechingly.

He knew what she was afraid of so he turned and let the masks fall away, hoping what she would find there would reassure her.

It seemed to. After a long moment of indecision, she nodded and headed up the stairs.

Swiveling back to face Zoe, he just looked at her for a moment. Seeing both the woman he'd once loved and the ex-wife who seemed to love to torment him. Tonight was a turning point, it had to be. He couldn't begin a new relationship with Gillian still bound to the old one with unreconciled feeling and regrets.

"Why do you keep doing this, Zoe? You've said you hate me, so why do you keep coming back?"

He could tell she was unprepared for the direct question. She drew in a deep breath, puffing herself up, then let it out in a deep sigh, totally deflating. "I don't know. It's…easy…I hoped…I don't know."

"You're the one who left. Said you couldn't take it any more. But every time you break up with the current man in your life, there you are back on my doorstep."

Defensiveness took over her features. "And you've never turned me away."

"Before I always thought…hoped…that we could turn things around. Maybe figure out how to make a go of it. But that's never going to happen, is it? You're you and I'm me and we're not going to miraculously change. We just don't fit together."

She gave a huff of bitter laughter. "Emily says we're toxic."

He returned her smile. "When your own daughter doesn't want you to get back together, that ought to tell you something."

"We were so good together at first. What happened? How did we end up here?" she pleaded.

"I don't know. We grew up? Got consumed by our jobs? Doesn't really matter now, does it? We're done, Zoe. It was exciting at first, but excitement doesn't last. And we had nothing else."

"It was you and your damned research. Reading expressions…"

He felt the first stirrings of anger. "You can't lay it all on me, darling. Not this time. I'll take my share of the blame but not all of it. And we both know if you were wearing a thong, I wouldn't have been staring at your eyebrows."

She drew a breath to protest, then let it out with a weak laugh. "No, I guess not. The bedroom was the one place we never had any problems."

"But a great sex life doesn't mean a great marriage," he agreed sadly.

"You're just doing this because you want to get into sweet Gillian's pants." She went on the attack.

He took a deep breath to cool his anger. They'd always used anger, when things got too close, too uncomfortable. He didn't want to fall back into those old patterns, didn't want to bring them to his new fragile relationship with Gill. "I love her," he responded simply. "And I don't want old baggage between you and I to mess up what Gill and I could have together."

"So you finally admit it?" she asked with a touch of wonder.

"I love her," he shrugged, never at ease with these kind of confessions. "I never cheated on you, Zoe, but I've loved her for a long time. I'm sorry." For the first time he wondered how much he'd used Zoe as a shield against what he felt for Gillian. Maintained the fiction of a committed marriage, so he wouldn't have to face his possibly unrequited love.

She gave a snort. "So I was playing a game I couldn't win, all that time?"

"It's never been a game, not for me. You're the one who seems obsessed with who wins and who loses. With points scored."

She blinked at him as he watched the realization cross her face. "I guess that's part of being a good trial lawyer. Scoring each point with the jury and winning at all costs."

"Put away your score pad, darling. We both came out of our marriage losers. Even if I'd never met Gillian, you know we never could have lasted. No matter how much either of us wanted it. We just weren't right for each other."

"My mother told me you were the wrong man for me," she answered with a self-depreciating grin. "Part of the reason I married you was because she was so much against it. Maybe I should have listened to her."

"Mums get it right sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess they do."

"Now we have to really end it. You walked away once, Zoe. Now do it for good. Cut the strings. I won't be your puppet any more."

Getting up silently, she approached the fireplace mantel, decorated mostly of pictures of Emily. "You're right. I know you're right. But you've always been my safe spot when everything else is getting crazy. Familiar. I knew where I stood with you."

"How to make me crazy?" he asked in a light tone.

She shot him a grin over her shoulder. "Yeah, that too. It is a bit of a rush to have a little bit of power over someone like you. So confident…arrogant. Maybe that's part of why I keep coming back. Assure myself I still have some power over my life."

"You're a powerful woman, Zoe. All on your own. You don't need me to prove that."

"It's hard to let go, though."

He sighed, "I know."

"But I think you're right. We need to let go. I need to let go. For both of us. And Emily."

He nodded. "She loves us both, but hates it when we're together. Our little holiday get-togethers make her anxious for weeks."

"'Cause they always end up in a fight?"

"Yeah." Sadness tightened his chest. Not the fury and fear he'd felt when she'd walked out the door years ago. Just gentle sadness for a relationship that could never have worked. "We don't need to fight any more, darling. We've done okay just being Emily's parents."

"She's a really good kid."

"She is. The best. The one thing we got right."

"Okay, Cal. You're right. It should have been over when we signed the divorce papers. We both need to move forward with our lives."

"Thank you."

She gathered up her coat. "Don't thank me. It's just the way its got to be, isn't it?"

"I think so."

Leaning over, she kissed him softly on the forehead. "Maybe it'll be easier to remember the good times, when we're not making more bad memories all the time."

"Take care, luv."

She turned as she was headed for the door. "You, too. And listen to what Gillian has to say, don't just interpret the expressions on her face."

With that she was gone, leaving Cal with a strange mixture of sadness, relief and satisfaction.

**Author's note:** Wow, only three reviews the last part. Either everyone's busy, the story's getting boring or I went seriously off track somewhere. I'm not fishing for reviews (well, maybe just a little bit :-)), but if I did go off track, I'm not adverse to constructive criticism. If I'm going wrong or can do better, I'd love to know. Improvement is my goal. And a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story.


	35. Chapter 35

**Part 35**

Emily crept down the stair she heard silence from the main room. No harsh, raised voices or…anything else. She desperately didn't want to see…oh, please don't let them be doing _that_ again.

"It's okay, luv, you can come down now." Her father's voice rang from the living room. "Your mum's left."

To her relief, her dad was in the exact same position he'd been in when she'd left the room. "What, no fight?" she tried to joke.

"No fight," he confirmed, looking a little sad and thoughtful. He sighed, "I told your mum goodbye tonight."

She frowned in puzzlement. "What? Of course, you…" then the pieces fell together and she could see the picture. "For real? Really goodbye?"

"Yup." He reached up and pushed the hair off his forehead, of course, it fell straight back again. "No more holidays. No more working for her. No more…well, you know."

"Wow," she flopped down next to him, letting the idea slowly sink in. It was what she'd wanted for years, for her parents to stop trying to play happy family when they were far from it. But it was another big change, a welcome change but still a change in a world that had changed so rapidly in the past few weeks. "I'm…ecstatic, but what brought this on? Oh…you and Gillian? She did just go home to rest tonight, right? You guys didn't have a fight, did you?"

"No, no fight," he reassured her. "Well, maybe I did raise my voice a little. But it was really just a disagreement…that got a little loud."

"Dad!"

"Don't give me that tone. It was just a disagreement. She's working herself to death trying to take care of me and the Group. I convinced her she needed a break."

She studied his features for deception. Seeing none, she nodded. "She did look really tired last night."

"Exhausted. She's going to do some nice relaxing girly things tonight."

"Girly things? What does that entail?"

"Don't know and didn't ask. Whatever makes her feel good." His expression turned serious. "It can't work between us if I'm still hanging on to your mum. And I really want it to work with Gillian."

"Wow," she repeated, taking in his strangely calm demeanor. "And there was no fighting. When did you get to be so mature, Dad?"

He cuffed her lightly on the back of her head. "Respect your poor old dad. And the answer is pain pills."

"So you're high? What happened to setting an example for the teenage daughter?" she teased.

"Not high," he denied. "I just don't hurt for the first time in weeks. Feels so good it's hard to get upset about anything."

She took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the indent where his wedding band used to rest. "I'm glad, Dad. Both that you feel good tonight and that you told mom to take…told mom goodbye. You've always been so much happier when you're around Gill."

"Have I?" he frowned. "I guess I've kinda forgotten what it means to be happy."

"Listen to Gill. Even with all the crap she's been through, she's pretty good at happy."

He grinned, reaching over to ruffle her hair. "She is, isn't she? Listen enough of this. Like Gillian said, we're moving forward now. How about we have a nice night of father-daughter bonding?"

"Pizza?" she suggested with an impish grin. "I'm tired of cooking."

"Pizza it is," he grabbed his cell phone. "And what do you have in that bag you lugged over here?"

"I borrowed Shelly's Wii. I thought we could play some games. I read that physical therapists like to use it to help patients regain muscle strength and coordination."

"And you think its something your broken old man needs?" She could read the tiny bit of anger beneath his teasing grin.

"It'll be fun, Dad, really. And if it helps you out a little bit too, why not?"

"I'll suppose I can give it a try," still not totally convinced.

"Why don't you order the pizza and I'll hook the game up to the TV?"

"Pepperoni or sausage?"

By the time her father hung up the phone, she had all the wires connected, the sensor in place and the Wii powered up. "First we have to make you a Mii," she explained as she clicked the correct box.

"Wha?"

"A Mii…an avatar. It'll represent you in the games."

"So that little guy is supposed to be me?" he squinted at the screen. "I don't look like that, do I?"

"Well, I can make him a little bit shorter," earned her another cuff. She changed the avatar's hair color. "You want to have glasses or not."

"Sure, give me glasses."

She inserted the disc with some of the basic games. "Oh, here's a shooting game. You'll like that." She connected the controllers to the plastic guns. "And we can both play at the same time."

Soon they were blasting away at ducks, targets, balloons and tin cans. "Dad, you're not supposed to shoot me!"

"Sure I am," he grinned unrepentantly. "Look how many points I got."

The final stage involved saving a whole gaggle of their little Mii's who were running around in a panic trying to avoid an invasion of UFOs. "Dad, save me!" She giggled so hard she couldn't focus enough to shoot her own gun. "Don't let 'em kidnap me! Save me!"

Fiercely focused, he picked off the marauding aliens with amazing accuracy. "Oh, no you don't," he growled at the screen.

"That one in the corner," Emily bounced on the couch, forgetting about the controller in her own hand in her excitement. "Get him. All right. Good shot, Dad."

The last UFO in flames, the Mii's lined up, only one missing from their number, and cheered their safety. Rising, Emily did her own victory dance, then collapsed into her father's lap.

"My hero," she gushed through her laughter. Then looking up into his beloved, oh, so thin face, now covered with a smug grin, tears unexpectedly erupted. She'd been so close to losing him. To never being able to share anything silly with him again.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he pulled her close, letting her soak his shirt with her tears.

"I love you so much, daddy," she babbled. "And I was so scared when you were in the hospital. I don't want to lose you."

"You didn't, luv. You didn't lose me. Shhh…it's alright. I'm okay now."

"It was soo bad in the hospital. Seeing you like that. I just wanted to cry all the time."

"Shh, darling."

"Gill being there helped. She was so strong. She even told Mom off once. Gill was there every day, did you know that?

"No, I don't remember much."

"Well she was. Every day. All day. Looking out for you, working with the doctors, watching out for me. She really cares about you, Dad."

"I know," he assured her. "I love her too. But I'm out of the hospital now."

"I know," she took a deep breath to try to calm the flow down her cheeks. "That's why I'm crying now. I really missed you and now you're back."

"I love you, too," he whispered. "It'll be okay."

* * *

Gillian leaned back into her idea of heaven. A warm bubble bath, a good romance novel, a plate of freshly baked cookies on a tray in front of her with a big glass of chocolate milk. Life didn't get much better than this.

Her eyes straying from the page, she let her thoughts drift over Alec's visit. When he'd been there, she'd been so shocked she could barely respond. Now she let herself consider all he'd said. Simple confirmation it hadn't been her all her fault was amazingly…freeing. Oh, she'd told herself a million times, as had Cal, that Alec carried most of the blame. But there'd always been a small voice that told her she was the one who'd screwed it all up. She should have been more supportive. She should have been able to bear his children. She should have loved Alec more and Cal less.

Now Alec's simple apology silenced that little voice. Oh, she still bore some of the responsibility. It was over. They hadn't been able to make it work, because the two of them together didn't work.

Her cell phone interrupted her gentle musing. Glancing at the screen, she saw Cal's landline.

"Hey, Cal."

"Hey, luv." She smiled just from hearing his voice. "How's your night off?"

"Wonderful. You were right. I needed this."

"I'm always right, luv," she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Well, not always, but about this you were." She conceded. "Is Emily there?"

"Yup. Hey, Em," he called. "Pick up the extension and say hi to Gill."

"Hey, Gill, getting unstressed?"

"Sure am," She smiled. "I'm taking a bubble bath and eating some chocolate chip cookies I just baked."

"Oh," the teen groaned. "Hope you saved some for us?"

"Emily, don't beg," her father chastised lightly.

"I baked a double batch, so there's plenty for everyone," she grinned. "What have you guys been up to? Your dad hasn't been getting into mischief, has he?"

"No, he's been good. We've been playing some games. I powned him in table tennis."

"Table tennis!" she gasped, trying to recall if she'd ever seen a table tennis set-up at Cal's house.

"Video games," Cal assured her. "I didn't leave my chair. And I…what was that word, Em?"

"Powned. Positively owned."

"Yeah, powned her in the shooting game."

"And he saved me from being kidnapped by space aliens."

"Yup, downed every one of them," he informed her smugly.

"I'm glad you guys had a good time," She said through her laughter.

"We did. Now say good night, Em, so I can talk to Gill."

"Sure, Dad. Good night, Gill. Don't worry about, Dad, he's in good hands."

"I know he is, sweetheart."

"Have a good night and see you tomorrow, right?"

"I'll be back tomorrow," she confirmed. "You have a good night too. Sweet dreams."

"Night, Gill." And the teen dropped off the line.

"Are you really de-stressing, luv?" Cal murmured, his low voice doing sinful things to her insides.

"Yeah, I feel much better. But you know, the strangest thing happened."

"What?"

"Alec dropped over. I haven't talked to him for more than three months."

"And what did that wanker want?" he growled.

"He wanted to apologize."

There was a moment of silence over the line. "Apologize?"

"Yeah, stunned me, too."

"He's not trying to get back together with you?"

"No," she soothed Cal's suspicions. "In fact he's being transfer to the Ambassador to Korea's staff. He just wanted to apologize. Said it was part of his program to atone to people he's wronged."

Another long silence. "That's good. I guess. Kinda a strange coincidence, though. Zoe stopped by here tonight."

Gillian felt herself tense. "Zoe?"

"Yeah, she dropped Em off and we had a little talk."

"Talk?" she found herself monosyllabic.

"I cut the strings, luv. I ended it for good this time."

"Oh, Cal…really…for good?"

"For good. I told her I won't be her puppet any more."

"Oh, Cal, I don't know what to say."

"It's what you wanted, yeah?" Insecurity crept into his voice. "What you always wanted?"

"You didn't do it just for me, did you?" She didn't want him to cut Zoe out of his life just to please her. _He_ had to want it and mean it.

"No, darling, it was time. I should have done it years ago." He cleared his throat. "Now that we seem to have the exes out of the way, does this mean we can move forward?"

She leaned back, letting herself slid down into the tub. "I'm practically living with you now, Cal."

"Isn't it grand?" he smiled.

"Well, I think we might have some kinks to work out."

"Sure," he agreed amiably. "Par for the course. Well, Emily wore me out with her videos games and I'm keeping you from your bubbles, so I think I'll say good night now."

"Okay, we've got the rest of the weekend to try to work out some of the kinks. Go ahead and go to bed."

"It'll be lonely without you there."

"Yeah, for me too, but I'll be home tomorrow."

"Home," he whispered. "That sounds good."

"I love you, Cal."

"Best lullaby I've heard. I love you too. See you tomorrow."

**Author's note**: Thanks everyone for the great reviews. But no one needs to apologize for not leaving one. I just wanted to make sure I hadn't wandered into never-never land along the way. It's easy to get too close to what you're writing and not see if you've taken a wrong turn. Any way, thanks a lot. I really do appreciate any and all reviews.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's note**: I was hoping to have the story finished before I went on vacation but it is not to be, as I'll be leaving on Wednesday night. I hope this part will hold you until I get back in two weeks. Sorry it isn't longer, but I still have packing to do.

**Part 36**

Gillian stood on Cal's doorstep, debating whether to ring the doorbell or just use her key. It didn't seem polite to just barge in, but ringing the bell like a common visitor also didn't seem quite right. As she'd said last night, Cal's house felt more like home than the one with her name on the lease.

Decided, she turned the key in the lock, opened the door and let herself in. "Honey, I'm home," she called, feeling both silly and incredibly happy to be back.

"Hey, Gill, be right there."

After hanging up her coat, the sound of wheels rolling across the hardwood floor spun her head. Cal appeared, kneeling backward in his office chair, using his good leg to skate himself down the hallway. "Hey, luv," he grinned. "Like my new wheels?"

"Pretty sporty, Cal." She returned his grin. "You seem in a remarkable better mood today."

"It's those new pain-pills they switched me to," he informed her, wheeling himself next to her. He leaned over the back of the chair to give her a quick peck on the lips. "It's lovely not to hurt but still be able to think. You look 100% better too. C'mon, help me finish up breakfast."

She scurried to keep up with him. "You made breakfast?"

"Yeah, nothing special, just oatmeal. Added a bit of peaches and it's not bad, if I do say so myself."

She marveled at how the absence of pain gave him back some of his old energy. Like the days in the not so distant past where she often had to run to keep up with him. "Those pills seem to be really working for you."

"They are." He stopped suddenly, his face thoughtful. "I think I was getting a bit depressed, yeah."

She stopped herself, beyond surprised he would admit such a thing. "I'd be amazed if you didn't get a little depressed, with all you've been through."

"I suppose. Anyway, the pills don't make everything easier, but my head isn't all muddled up so I can think of different ways of trying to do things."

"Hence, the new vehicle," she smiled, not wanting to admit how aroused this new energetic Cal made her. How much she'd missed his presence in only the one day she'd been away.

"Be a love and grab the bowls and spoons." He swung himself around until he was properly seated in the chair. "I'll take them now, if you'll get the oatmeal."

With a grin and the eating utensils stacked in his lap, he propelled himself backward into the dining room. Once divested of his cargo, he looked up at her and the grin became something more predatory.

"Come 'ere," he commanded. "Give me a proper hello."

She let herself be pulled sideways onto his lap while his arms came around her and his face lifted to kiss her. There was no subtle foolery, no dissembling, not from the first. The kiss was wholly sexual, wet and filled with motion. He tilted his head back, opened his lips and stroked her teeth and tongue. She looped her arms around his neck and let it happen…and happen…until her heart seemed to expand against her ribs, leaving little room for her lungs to fill and empty. They tasted and stroked each other in the way each had imagined many times, in a whorl of sleek tongues and moist lips, while a full minute slipped away and then two. In the middle of that time, he shifted her on his lap, dropping her to one side, bending above her until they were twisted together like a pair of tree trunks from a long-ago storm.

It ended lingeringly, with an easing of his hold and a slow unwinding of their bodies until her face was again above his. Their lips parted but stayed close, their breathing strident. His hands rested lightly on her sides.

He spoke first, in a voice half-trapped in his throat. "I didn't think I'd be able to choke down anything, thinking of kissing you. Now that it's out of the way, we can have some breakfast."

She slipped from his lap to take her own seat. They picked up their spoons and each ate a bite. The air around them seemed smothering, as if it contained too little oxygen for their needs. She glanced up and saw him watching her, his elbows on the table, his spoon leaving his lips. Suddenly, the years dearth of physical affection seemed to catch her like the crack of a whip. It coiled around her body, lowered the spoon from her hand and hauled her from her chair back to his.

It happened so fast. One moment she was safely seated. The next she was standing above him her hands on his face, lifting it, bending above it and picked up where they'd left off moments ago. And ten seconds after that – without a break in the kiss – she had thrown one leg over his lap and straddled him, striking the table edge with her hip, then taking a ride with him as he pivoted his chair at a sharper angle away from the table.

His arms slip low, pulling her flush against him. She embraced him from her high vantage point, kissing his warm supple mouth while his hands slid around the backs of her thighs and cupped them gently from behind, near the bend of her knees. They shared the flavor of peaches and cream from within each other's mouths and that sleek fit of two tongues mating, of lips sliding in an endless quest. They had been through so much together for so long it felt like a reward which they shared. They did so, however, sitting smack in view of the stairs, while her mind clamored, _Don't come down yet, Emily, please don't come down_.

When things got too crazy inside her, she drew back, as one drugged, realizing she had to get off his lap. "I have to…"

His open mouth cut off the words. His arms snapped her back where she'd been and his shoulder blades came away from the chair. They'd played the song and dance so long that they explored now with exquisite relief, tasting each other and letting their feelings carry the reckless moment. She moved her hips against his, feeling a reaction she hadn't expected.

They ended the kiss mutually, if reluctantly.

Though their mouths parted, their eyes refused. They sat beguiled, breathing hard, a little stunned, his hands still cupping the back of her thighs in his tight blue jeans.

"Emily could come down," she whispered and slowly swung her leg off him, his right hand trailing around her kneecap, lingering there until she reluctantly backed off and returned to her chair.

"That was a bit of alright," he grinned, reaching down to adjust his sweatpants.

"Did I really feel…"

"Yeah," he affirmed smugly. "Not enough to be doing anything important yet. But its not dead."

She couldn't contain her slow sensual smile.

"Flaming hell, you're so sexy when you look at me like that," he breathed.

"Is that Gill I hear?" came a call from the upper level.

She grinned at Cal's look of exaggerated distress. "Yeah, sweetheart. I'm back."

"I'll be right down."


	37. Chapter 37

Author's note: Well, I'm back from a wonderful vacation. Now I have to get back into the habit of writing. It's not much but I hope you like it.

**Part 37**

The rest of the weekend was spent in quiet family moments. The three of them ate together, watched movies together and played video games together. They roared with laughter, uttered dire threats, and – at least Gillian and Emily – wiped away tears at a particularly heartwrenching scenes in romantic movies. Gillian couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so content. But her happiness was overlaid with a fierce anticipation, an eagerness to be alone with Cal, to sample again his physical enticements. The few moments at the dining room table hadn't been nearly enough to sate her.

But for now she had to content herself with the fire in his eyes when he looked at her. The stroke of his hand every time she got within arm's reach. Watching TV within the circle of his arms. Falling asleep with her head against his chest. It was enough, for now, barely, this mating dance.

"You know, luv, I didn't think I'd ever say this," Cal whispered against her stomach. In one of their scant moments alone, he'd pulled her into the vee of his legs when she'd stood to get them something to drink. His hands came up to cup her backside. "But I can't wait for Emily to go back to her mum's."

"I know," she whispered back, one hand entangling itself in his hair. Her breath caught as his tongue darted out to lick at her wrist. "Just one more night."

"Ummm," he agree, nuzzling her belly, demonstrating he could make short work of her buttons without using his hands. Her own hands found their way down the neck of his shirt, over his jutting collarbone. "It's been good though, yeah." His hands trailed up and down the back of her thighs. "I mean this is good." He kissed the inside of her elbow, his tongue tracing a pattern against her skin. "Very good." His fingers slipped up the inseam of her jeans, making her shiver. "And it'll get even better, I promise." His tongue found its way to her navel. "But the three of us. Being a family. That's good too, isn't it? We have more than just…" She'd never known the back of her knee could be so sensitive. "…this?"

"We do, Cal. We always have," she groaned. "More than I ever hoped for." She stepped back, dangerously close to ripping his clothes off and having her way with him. Right there in the middle of the living room. "Stop it now. I love you but you're making me crazy."

"I'm trying my best," he smirked, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on her.

"You're succeeding," she shook her head, pulling her shirt back into a semblance of order, redoing the moist buttons. "But something tells me that's not anywhere near your best."

He gave her a roguish grin. "You may be right. But you'll have to wait until there's no teenager around."

"So will you, boyo." She gave him a playful cuff to the side of the head before continuing her journey to the kitchen. "Want a bottle of water?"

* * *

Seconds later, Emily clattered down the stairs, her arms filled with shaving apparel.

"What's this now?" Cal questioned.

"I thought we'd do something about that ratty fur covering your face."

"And you don't think I can shave myself?" he queried with a touch of annoyance.

The teen's face fell. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry…"

"Hey, Em," he lightened his tone, reminding himself she was only trying to help. "I'm the one who's sorry."

"It's just that you tend to forget about things like that. You know, shaving, combing your hair, putting on a clean shirt. Dad, you look a mess. A lot."

"I do not," he looked to Gillian for confirmation, but she nodded her head in agreement with his daughter.

"You do, Cal. When was the last time you ironed a shirt?"

"An iron? Why would I need a bloody iron?"

The two women exchanged a significant look. Cal knew he was in trouble, but he decided he'd let them have their way with the beard. He did draw the line at playing dress-up, however. Well…maybe…depending on where Gillian's tastes ran.

"Okay, okay. Do what you want with the beard."

Emily clapped her hands in glee, then turned to Gillian with a conspiring expression. "What do you think we should do with it? Trim it down? Take it all off? I can't remember the last time I've seen Dad without stubble. Or maybe give him one of those droopy mustache things he could twirl."

"Oi, I'm no melodrama villain."

Gillian grinned evilly, ignoring his input. "Let's just get started and see what we can come up with."

Cal knew he was in very big trouble.

* * *

Over the next hour, his women had tried every style of facial hair they could imagine. Mutton-chop sideburns, Goatee, Fu-Manchu mustache, they even attempted braids to find to their disappointment, the whiskers not quite long enough. Random patches appeared and disappeared. After much giggling, they decided he was best clean shaven, despite his vociferous protest.

Perhaps it wasn't so bad, he decided a little later, for Gillian couldn't seem to keep her hands from stroking up and down his now smooth cheeks. So far this weekend she'd been quite shy any thing physical in front of Emily, but her hands barely left his face for an instant after the shave. Not that he was complaining. He couldn't get enough of her touch. It both lit a fire in his belly and soothed his frayed soul.

"You like that?" He captured her hand to press it against his lips.

"You have very soft skin," she replied in a distracted tone that made him want to pounce on her and snog her silly.

He lifted his chin to expose his throat to her caress. "Take advantage now. I won't guarantee it'll last long."

"Very soft," she murmured.

"Gee, you two, get a room," Emily exclaimed, a look of mock disgust on her face, barely holding back her giggles.

Gillian startled, her hand leaping back to her lap. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, luv," Cal grabbed her hand back. "You're not going to corrupt the daughter just by touching me."

"Nope," Emily covered her giggles with her hand. "I've seen much worse. I kinda like it. Different from how Dad was with Mom. Sorta sweet."

"Sweet?" Cal repeated incredulously. "I don't think I've ever been called sweet."

"Sweet," Gillian affirmed, leaning in to press her lips against his. "And non-scratchy."

He pulled back before the kiss could become more than it should. "First you treat me like some fashion doll, then you call me sweet. It's more than I can take." He levered himself up from the sofa. "I'm getting myself a drink. Anyone want tea?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's note: **Here's the part I think a lot of you've been waiting for. Just a note - I don't write graphic sex, not because I have any objection to it, I'm just not very good at it. I've never been happy with the way it turns out so I just quit trying to write it. So I hope there won't be too much disappointment.

**Part 38**

Monday afternoon found them in Dr. Slaugard's office. As usual, in doctor's offices, they were already fifteen minutes past the time of their appointment and still cooling their heels in the waiting room. Although they'd both brought a book to read, Cal was showing signs of agitation, bouncing his right leg, heel tapping rhythmically on the floor.

Placing her hand on his knee to stop the motion, she leaned over to whisper, "Cal, relax."

"I think we should bill them for the time we spend waiting," he replied, his voice quiet but carrying. "_We _never keep clients waiting like this."

She had to agree he was mostly right. For all of his myriad faults, Cal was rarely late for client meetings. "I know. But there's nothing you can do about it, so just relax."

Slouching back into the chair with a grumble, Cal picked up one of his crutches and began examining it. Gillian grimaced, hoping fervently Cal's name would be called soon. Very soon. For he was showing signs of incipient boredom and nothing scared her more than a bored Cal.

Thankfully only another five minutes passed before a nurse came to collect Cal. When he was up, balanced on his crutches, he turned back to her.

"You wanna come back with me?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, she desperately wanted to be present for his recheck, but she'd decided she needed to back off a bit, concerning his medical status. She'd been the one in charge for so many weeks it was hard to pull back, but she knew he needed to take back control of his life. Starting here.

"You want me there?"

"Sure," he gave a sharp nod. "You've probably got a lot of questions to ask, yeah. You know more what's happened then I do."

"I'd like to go in with you, if you don't mind."

"Let's go then."

* * *

A short while later, Gillian discovered at least part of the reason Cal had invited her back. After the nurse had weighed him and taken his vitals, the doctor appeared shortly thereafter. As Gillian went through her list of questions, Cal sat silently, lounging back in his chair, hands draped casually on his belly. He looked the epitome of relaxation but she recognized the attitude all too well, his favorite interrogation style. Sit back and analyze while someone else asked the questions. She'd seen the toughest men break down under the relentless scrutiny, revealing their lies in minute expressions. Slaungard was starting to twitch.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask, Dr. Lightman?" the surgeon practically sputtered.

"No," Cal replied blandly. "Gill's doing just fine."

Gillian sighed, shaking her head, partly in amusement, though she fought not to let Cal see that. "He's looking for signs of deception," she informed the shaken surgeon.

"Deception? He thinks I might be lying?" he said with some indignation.

"Cal thinks everyone's lying."

"They are. No one tells the whole truth, all the time." Cal entered into the conversation for the first time. "I just want to make sure there aren't some little half-truths thrown in."

"Oh my God," Slaungard exclaimed. "I remember Annette telling me. That's what you guys do for a living, deception detection. Does he ever turn it off?"

"Rarely," she groaned. Turning to her partner, "Have you seen enough now, Cal? Will you trust him?"

Cal took his time answering. "I think so. About this, at least."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," the doctor replied sarcastically. "Why don't you take off your shirt and we can get this over with?"

Cal stripped off his shirt and climbed up on the examining table. Slaungard poked and prodded, listened and thumped, while Gillian was now the one carefully watching his face. He seemed quite pleased with what he found.

"Would you like to get these staples out?"

A grin spread over Cal's face. "You're bloody right I would."

It took only a couple minutes for the doctor to snip and slip free all forty-three staples. The miniscule drops of blood that appeared at a few of the sites were quickly wiped away.

"Oh, and I'm lifting your restrictions. Doesn't mean you'll be able to do everything you could do before the accident, at least not yet. But you're not going to kill yourself if you try. The incision's healed well enough that you don't have to worry about straining it. And your lungs sound pretty good, considering. Your body will tell you what you can and can't do for here out. Keep on your rehab schedule and we'll see you again in two weeks."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a weird combination of exhilaration, apprehension, nerves, joy and tension. With Emily staying at her mother's and Cal's restrictions being lifted Gillian knew tonight would be the moment, the point of no return. Neither one of them talked about what they anticipated happening that night. Neither of them had to, it stood between them like the proverbial elephant in the room.

As Gillian sat at the edge of the bed, tying back her hair in preparation for sleep, she pondered her own nervousness. She wanted it, _needed_ it, but still she was scared beyond rational measure. What if it didn't work between them? What if Cal couldn't? What if taking this step ruined everything? What if? What if? What if?

"Why don't you let your hair down?" Cal appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his sweatpants slung obscenely low on his hips.

And as if his words were the force that controlled her movements, she pulled the scrunchy from her hair. He watched her as she freed it, then tried to comb through it with her fingers. All the while, her eyes stayed on him. He turned to look over his shoulder and finding the brush she'd left on the dresser, picked it up and came to stand behind her. She followed him with her eyes, still holding the trailing ends of her hair, until he was above her and she was gazing up at him.

Her eyes closed as he ran the brush over the part of her hair, and he brushed at it repeatedly until he had obliterated it and pulled her hair straight back. Then his hands went slowly around the front of her neck until, under her hair, she felt his thumbs pushing her head up. When she straightened it, she felt the warmth of his body flattened against her back. His first kiss was laid lightly upon the hair he'd just finished brushing.

"I've never been this nervous before," he admitted, in what she was sure was meant to be a conversational tone. "Not even my first time."

"I know," she forced the words from her constricted throat. "Me too."

"I've waited so long, loved you so long. Now I'm afraid of screwing it all up."

"It'll be alright, Cal," she soothed, both him and herself. "Better than alright."

"Kiss me, Gillian."

As always, she did what he wanted because it was what she wanted too.

His kiss was becoming familiar to Gillian, but the surge of emotion pounding through her seemed as new as if she'd never been kissed before. Its warmth became heat. His tongue became a coal inside her, setting her afire with its insistence. He twisted his mouth over hers and clamped her body against the length of his own.

He tore his mouth away and his shaking voice was at her ear. "I love you so much."

"Oh, Cal," she could hear the hunger and longing in her own voice. "I love you. Please."

He tumbled her back onto the bed. They fell in one swift motion and silent except for their harsh breathing.

They explored with a shared sense of wonder, first with their eyes open, then with eyes closed, kissing tenderly, then not so tenderly as some primal force took control.

She rolled with him, and spread her limbs at his bidding, and let him kiss her in the most intimate of places, which had been scented for that purpose. Their coupling was restricted by Cal's physical limitations, but still greedy and untamed, a splendid natural compulsion carrying them from one pleasure to another. They explored poses balletic and profane, submitting completely to the unutterable joy of this act.

Once she whispered, "Oh, Cal…" because there were no other words in this foolish man-made language to do justice to what she felt.

And Cal answered in kind, repeating her name, "Gill…Gill…" because he, too, found no other words adequate.

Much later, Cal whispered, "Like this?"

And she breathed, 'Yes…" arching her throat. "I can feel you…clear up to…my heart…my God…my God…my God…"

"Gill…Gill…I still can't believe…I'm with you…and doing this."

They were flying free and making up for so much lost time.

When she climaxed, he stifled her cry with his mouth. When he climaxed, she watched, smiling down their bodies, taking joy in the sight of them joined. In paroxysm he was beautiful, bowed back with his jaw fallen open and his breath strident. She touched his damp brow and ran a finger into his open mouth, which settled closed as his eyes came open.

"I love you." She loved the joy that overtook Cal's face.

"Say it again."

"I love you," she repeated, with wonder seizing her soul, quite stunned by the force of the words. "Oh, God, I do, I love you."

"You're everything to me." He murmured against her hair.

There had been, in Gillian's life, no moment as magnificent as this, saying the words, meaning them, manifesting their love in this most perfect way.

Cal rolled her with him onto their sides, rubbed his knuckles lightly along her jaw, and said softly, "Gillian, my love, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's note: **Thanks for all the great reviews. One more part after this and then the epilogue to go.

**Part 39**

Cal woke just as dawn was brightening the sky, feeling eyes watching him. Blinking sleep-gummed eyes, he unmashed his face from the pillow to find Gillian propped on one elbow above him.

"Good morning, luv," he smiled sleepily at her. "It's bloody early, though, even for you."

"Good morning, sunshine." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. What he did see on her expressive features made his heart thump hard in his chest.

"Doubts already, darlin'?" he forced through his suddenly dry mouth.

"Doubts…fears…I don't know what you'd call them," she replied pensively.

He regulated his breathing, trying to calm the incipient panic. "Anything in particular…or just generally _us_?"

"I love you, Cal." She leaned to press a lingering kiss against his lips.

He responded freely, but held himself back from pushing it further. He knew he could distract her from her doubts, but he'd rather bring them out into the open now, before they had time to fester. "I love you, too. But…"

"There's no but about me loving you." He read her obvious sincerity. "And I have no doubts that you love me too."

"Okay. So it's getting married that's causing you doubts?"

He saw a flash of frustration. "I guess so. Oh, I don't know. I want to be with you, Cal. I want us to be together. But marriage…it feels so quick…too soon after your accident…like we shouldn't be making major decisions yet."

"This isn't about last night, is it? I thought it was fantastic, but I know…well, I'm not quite up to par yet…"

She smiled down on him, fingers swirling in his hair. "No, it's not about last night. Last night was beautiful, perfect… I don't want to swell your ego any more than it already is but last night was the best sex I've ever had."

He couldn't stop a slightly smug grin, but staring up into her open face, he had to admit, "For me, too." Questioning doubt flashed. "Really. Even if my body couldn't do everything I wanted yet, I've never felt so…satisfied…so…together. You know?"

"I do," she answered softly. "But good sex does not guarantee a good marriage."

He pulled a face. "Oh, from past experience, I'm well aware of that."

She grimaced at even the oblique reference to Zoe.

"But it is a mark in the Pro column, isn't it? Sensational sex shouldn't make those doubts churn around in that beautiful head of yours."

She wasn't quite ready to let the subject of his previous marriage go. "You and Zoe had…have sensational sex too, don't you?"

"Had, luv. I told you I ended it with Zoe permanently. But, yeah, we had good sex. We also had horrible fights, weeks we refused to talk to each other. We may have had chemistry together but it was the worst kind. Zoe and I together are like thunder and lightning, a lot of noise and destruction. What you and I have is different. Like…like…a spring dawn…creative instead of destructive…"

"Are you getting poetic, Cal?" Her smile was teasing but not mocking, touched with emotion.

"If I am, its you that make me feel like that."

"I do love you."

"And I love hearing you say it. But I can see you're still not sure about marriage."

Screwing her eyes shut, she sighed. "It's such a big step, so soon."

Scooting himself up against the headboard, he pulled her back against his chest. He was fairly sure he could manipulate her into saying yes to his proposal of marriage. He knew her too well not to know where her buttons lay. But he also knew, if they wanted any chance of a lasting relationship, she had to come into it whole heartedly and without reservation. It had to be her choice.

He considered his next words carefully. It had been many years and never his main focus, but he also was a trained psychologist. His PhD might be on the research side, but he'd gone through the same course work as she. He had to ask the right questions for her to dispel her doubts and make the decision that was right for her. If he used manipulation or coercion, he knew he would only regret it later. But what if what was best for her wasn't marrying him?

"You said you thought it was too soon. What worries you about that?"

He could feel her frown against his collarbone. "I guess I'm afraid our feelings will change once we start to get back to a normal routine. Making decisions after an intense experience isn't usually a good idea."

"But my accident didn't really change our feelings, did it?" he countered. "It only made us admit them. I've loved you a long time, Gill."

"I've loved you too, almost since I met you. And I vowed to myself when you were in the hospital, I wouldn't waste any more time when we could be together. We've danced around each other for much too long now."

"We have," he confirmed, trying to stay objective, but it was damned hard. His entire future could ride on her decision.

She stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "My feelings have changed since I realized I loved you back in Morocco. though. As I got to know you better…and you got to know me…"

"For the better or worse?" he lead her.

"Better, " she replied meditatively. "Well, mostly. I found out you can be risk-taking to the point of recklessness, introverted to the point of brooding," She leaned back against him, nestling her cheek against his, taking some of the sting out of her words. "Psychologically isolated to the point of unreachable, confident to the point of egotistical and you can alienate almost anyone around you with a minimum of words."

"Anything else I should know about this bastard?" he tried to joke, a little stunned.

"Actually yes." Her tone softened. "You'd give me the shirt off your back if I was cold, a shoulder to weep on when I'm sad, intellectual discussions that make my head spin when I'm bored, a night of unbridled passion that will still bring a smile to my face when I'm ninety-seven, and the loyal friendship of a St. Bernard until the day I die. That's what makes you so dangerous, Cal. Underneath all the shit, you're a helluva great guy – you've got a charm all your own."

"Thank you…I think."

"I know you pretty well already, don't I?" she marveled.

"No one knows me better, luv," he answered truthfully. "Not even me."

"And you're not going to change much, are you?"

"Sorry, luv, I wouldn't count on it."

"So, what's the point in waiting? Let's get married!"


	40. Chapter 40

**Part 40**

The following evening, Gillian called Emily to make sure she was coming over to Cal's house after school. She didn't think their impending nuptials was something she should break to the teen over the phone. As Emily's arrival approached, Cal approached panic. The man Gillian had watched sitting perfectly still for hours during an interrogation now couldn't stay still for more than thirty seconds.

"Cal, sit down," she ordered as she shoved dinner in the oven. "You know you're not supposed to be putting weight on that foot yet."

Cal stopped his pacing to perch himself at the edge of the sofa. "What am I going to say?"

"How about 'Emily, we decided to get married'?"

"Why are you so calm? This morning you were a bundle of doubts." He scowled.

"I put those doubts to rest, Cal. That's why I'm calm. I know we're doing the right thing for us. Why are you so nervous? Doubts?" She watched his face carefully.

He tilted his head back to grin crookedly at her. "Not about us, luv. Just about Emily's reaction. I know she likes the _thought_ of us being together. But the reality? I don't know."

"What ever happens, we'll work it out. The three of us together." She knew his daughter's love and approval meant everything to him.

"I don't know…" Cal made to rise again.

"Sit," she ordered firmly.

"I'm not a dog," he complained, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his harsh tone.

"You're my loyal St. Bernard, didn't I tell you that this morning?" she teased back.

"Woof," he murmured as he pulled her down for a long, wet, soul-sucking kiss. She let herself be dragged down into his lap, her hands finding the bottom of his polo shirt and delving underneath. Her fingers encountered the long thick scar down the center of his chest and skittered away. Capturing them, he held them against himself.

"Please don't be afraid of touching me. Anywhere." he whispered against her neck.

"It doesn't hurt?" She leaned back enough to see his face.

"Nope. Can't feel anything…well, gets a little itchy around the edges." He guided her hand to scratch lightly at the edge of the scar. "That feels good."

The sound of the front door opening pulled them hastily apart. Now that the moment had arrived, despite her earlier confidence, Gillian felt a twinge of nerves. What _would_ they do if Emily objected?

"Hi, Dad, Gill. What's going on?" She had undoubtedly noticed their red faces and nervous demeanor.

Cal cleared his throat then suggested. "Come 'ere and sit down, Em."

"Oh, oh, something bad? You're not going back to the hospital, are you? Or you're…you're not breaking up? Oh, Dad, tell me you haven't screwed this up!"

"No, Em, calm down. It's not bad. At least I don't think so. It's good. You see, Gill and I…well, we thought…we thought you should know…"

Gill put the teen out of her misery. "Your Dad and I decided we're going to get married."

"Married?" The teen's eyes widened to extraordinary proportions. "For real? Married?"

"Yup," her dad confirmed. "I proposed last night and Gillian accepted."

Emily's ear-piercing shriek could have been heard three blocks away.

"I think she approves," Cal whispered in Gillian's ear.

"That's fantabulous! When? Have you set a date yet? I can't believe it. Finally!"

"No, we haven't set a date yet, but probably soon," Gill answered, her own happiness beaming from her smile.

"Very soon," Cal added, meeting her eyes with his own joyous smile. "I take it then that you approve."

"I've only been trying to get you guys together for ages. Of course, I approve."

"I'm so glad." The last doubt left Gill's mind. "Then I hope you'll agree to be my maid of honor."

A flash of surprise from both Cal and Emily. He hadn't known she was going to ask Emily. But who else would she ask? She had no sisters, kept only casual contact with old college friends and no truly close friends at all. Except Cal. She suddenly realized she'd never felt a need for a close friend since she'd met Cal. She had everything in him: confidante, business partner, playmate, and now lover.

Emily's second shriek distracted her thoughts. "Me? Of course! Oh my God. There's so much to do. Pick out dresses and colors, flowers, invitations…Oh my God, we have to get busy."

* * *

Later that week, Gillian had given up trying to convince Cal to stay away from the office. They reached a compromise that he would wait until the following Monday and that rehab would stay his priority. No skipping sessions because of cases or meetings. She would make sure Heidi was clear on that. Now all she had to do was figure out how to plan a Welcome Back party without Cal wiggling it out of her.

* * *

"There's not going to be a party, right?" Cal queried for the hundredth time as they made the drive through downtown.

"I have no knowledge of any party," Gillian answered entirely truthfully.

"Hmmm, no signs of deception. You don't know about anyone else planning a party?" Cal continued the interrogation.

Gillian hedged just a tiny bit, "No one has said anything to me about a party."

"But you did tell them I'm coming back."

"Yes, I let the staff know you'd be back in the office today. Heidi didn't tell me anything about a party, but I have no idea what they might have planned."

"So there might be a party," he exclaimed triumphantly.

She couldn't keep the slight grin off her face. "Cal, did any one ever tell you that you're very contrary? You've told me a hundred times you don't want a party, but every time one is mentioned your eyes dilate."

"Do not."

"I'm the one looking in them and yes, they do."

"So you did plan a party!"

"No, Cal, you said you didn't want one, so I didn't plan a party."

"Oh…but someone else might have."

"I think we've determined that, yes."

"Okay," he settled back into his seat as if he'd won an argument. Gillian smirked inwardly, careful to keep her face blank.

* * *

Cal had gotten quite good with his crutches, forcing Gillian to scramble to keep up as they made their way up from the parking garage. Using his own ID card with a smug grin, Cal let them into the Group offices. Heidi was there to greet them immediately.

"Dr. Lightman, its so good to have you back." Gillian saved one of his crutches from falling on the floor as he returned the hug one-armedly. "We were all so worried about you."

"Its good to be back." Grabbing back his crutch, he headed toward his office. "What you got for me today?"

"I set up a meeting with the FBI in about an hour. They want some amendments to your contract. Here are some phone calls you probably want to return yourself. Then I have the Barkley Foundation scheduled for three."

"Thanks, Heidi, you're the best."

He caught a tiny look between Gill and their assistant. He knew it, there was something planned behind his back!

With some relish, he swung his way into his office. There on his desk was a small tasteful array of flowers with a card propped against it. That was all? No Welcome Back banner? No balloons or garish display? He pushed the unexpected disappointment away. After all, he didn't really like parties where he was the center of attention. Did he?

"Well, open the card," Gillian urged him.

Feeling her eyes on him, he popped it open. All of their employees, even contractors, had signed the card, most with a small personal note. Reynolds and even some local law enforcement officers had also signed. The writing grew unfocused before he could read half of the notes.

"That was very nice of them." Gillian rubbed her hand up and down his back.

"Yeah," he was forced to clear his throat. "Nice."

"Well, I've got some stuff I have to get ready for the meeting with the FBI. So I'll let you get settled in again. Starting with the phone calls might be a good idea."

"Yeah, phone calls. I'll see ya in an hour."

* * *

The hour passed swiftly. As Cal approached the conference room, he could see Reynolds and his boss seated near the screen, Reynolds absently playing with the remote. He wondered why they needed to amend the contract, today of all days. Probably hoping to catch him weak and unable to fight back. But even if he wasn't yet up to his own standards of combativeness, he still had Gillian at his side. She would never let him or the company get less than the best deal.

Just as he entered the room, the lights on the entire floor blinked. Bracing himself for the shaking of an explosion, he instead found himself bombarded with an avalanche of balloons, streamers and confetti. Festive music blared from the speakers and Welcome Back & Congratulations shone onto the big screen. Employees and staff streamed into the room from wherever they'd been hiding, laughing.

Soft hands landed on his shoulders and he whirled to confront a beaming Gillian, a streamer curling down her cheek. "Welcome back, Cal."

"I thought you said no party," he accused through his own wide smile.

"I had nothing to do with it. Well, maybe just a little suggestion in the right ear."

"So who did plan this shindig? Maybe I should fire them."

"You can't fire me, Cal Lightman." A tall broad-shouldered man appeared in the doorway. "I don't work for you."

"Jeffrey?" Cal stammered in amazement. "You planned this?"

Jeffrey Buchanan, one of Cal's oldest friends, grabbed him up in a bear hug. "Gillian let me know what day you'd be back and hinted that appropriate festivities needed to be planned. Most of your staff helped, though." He moved them out of the way of the catering staff who were carrying mountains of food. "Ria and Eli did the balloons and stuff. Ben got his boss to agree to this meeting for a cover. No matter how obnoxious you can be sometimes, Cal, people still love you. Let them."

Cal let himself be hugged, thumped on the back, and exclaimed over by nearly every one of his staff, including Reynolds. Despite all his protests, he enjoyed himself immensely, regardless of the tears that occasionally blurred his vision. Gillian stayed at his side, telling small stories of his hospitalization and recovery, never overly dramatic, never dimming the mood of the crowd, yet spreading an appreciate of what he'd…they'd endured. After he'd made a round, he found himself plopped in a chair, his bad ankle propped up on pillows, a huge plate of food in front of him.

"Hey," Loker piped up after shoving a piece of cake in his mouth. "Welcome back is obvious, but why congratulations?"

Frozen with a sandwich halfway to his mouth, Cal shot a glance at Gillian. Did she want every one to know? He would have been happy to shout it from the balcony for all to hear, but he wasn't sure how she felt about it. She must have told Jeffrey something, otherwise how could Congratulations been included on the sign?

His guess was confirmed when Jeffrey stood up and held up his arms for everyone's attention. When the room quieted, he said, "I think Cal and Gillian have an announcement to make."

No one made a sound as they awaited breathlessly. Cal met Gillian's eyes and her beaming smile, giving him permission. He had never felt more at peace with himself or the world around him.

He stood up despite Gillian's warning look at his ankle. But this wasn't something he could say lounging in a chair. With a slight tug, he motioned her up beside him.

"The Congratulations are because…I asked Gillian Foster to be my wife and she has consented."

"Enthusiastically," Gillian added above the roar of the crowd.

Through the next round of hugs, handshakes and congratulations, Cal never lost sight of his Gillian. And wondered if life would ever again be this good. And decided surely tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow it could only get better.

**Authors note**: Only the epilogue left to go.


	41. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Eli Loker popped his head into Gillian's office. "Dr. Lightman, have you seen the male version of the Doctors Lightman yet this morning?"

Gillian grinned. She still used Foster professionally, but had been legally Gillian Lightman for more than a year now. The staff still loved to try to confuse clients, guests and each other, regarding which version, male or female, of Lightman was required. "He's not in yet. Doctor's appointments. But he should be…" A high pitched squeal sounded in the hallway. "I think he just got in."

Gillian followed Loker into the hallway, to behold a sight of which she would never tire. Cal, casually attired in jeans and rugby shirt, with an infant – squealing in delight as she bashed her stuffed horse against his nose – strapped to his chest, a toddler balanced on his hip and another youngster clinging to his leg. Seeing Gill, the infant ceased her bashing, held out her arms, jumping in excitement. Resulting in Cal being kicked repeatedly in the belly.

"Help me, luv," he called plaintively to Gillian.

With a beaming smile, Gill extricated nine month old Rachel from her carrier. Gillian's nose now became the target of choice of the stuffed horse while Rachel babbled, "Mmmm, mmmum,mmummm"

"Yes, that's your mum," Cal affirmed. He lifted the little boy from his hip, kissing the tousled blond hair "This one has been a very good boy. He sat and colored quietly through both appointments."

"Did he?" Gillian leaned forward to bestow her own kiss, getting giggles from the toddler.

"Yup," the boy replied. "Very good."

Cal thrust him toward Eli. "And now he deserves the chance to go run and play. So off you go with Uncle Loker."

"Hi, Eli," three year old Chad greeted shyly. "You play Legos with me?"

"Sure," Loker ruffled the little boy's hair, then set him on the floor. "You know where they are. I'll be right behind you."

The toddler scrambled off, with a quick, "Bye, Daddy, Mummy. I go play Legos."

"Be a good boy," Cal called after him. He reached down to peel four and one half year old Taylor from where the boy was clinging tightly to his jeans. "Now, you, my little man, why don't we go sit down and relax a little bit."

Taylor nodded slightly. Still bearing scars, emotional and physical, from the car accident that had killed his parents, Taylor had the most difficulties of the trio settling into his new family. His siblings, being younger and only slightly injured in the accident, had adapted fairly quickly. Taylor, in addition to horrendous nightmares, dealt with painful physical injuries. Thank goodness he and Cal had bonded from the moment they'd laid eyes on each other. At home and school, Taylor apparently felt secure enough to let his energetic charming personality show occasionally. Anywhere else, he clung to Cal like a lifeline, never letting him get more than an arm's length away. Gillian had yet to be allowed to help with his braces or other medical treatments.

"How did the appointments go?"

Before Cal could answer, Heidi peeked her head around the corner, looking yearningly at baby Rachel. "Can I?"

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Gillian relinquished the child into Heidi's adoring arms. "Go ahead, take her on the rounds. She loves the attention."

The youngest child removed to be oohed and ahhed over by all of the women and some of the men of the Lightman Group, the remaining Lightmans retired to Gillian's office.

"The appointments were good," Cal answered Gill's previous question. "Weren't they, boyo?"

Taylor nodded against Cal's collarbone. "Daddy Cal held my hand so I could be brave."

Gill smiled encouragingly at the boy, while questioning Cal silently if they needed talk out of Taylor's earshot. Cal shook his head, looking quite pleased.

"Tell Mummy Gill what happened?"

"I gots a new brace." The boy peeled his loose pants up over his skinny leg, to show a lightweight hinged stabilizer replacing the hideous steel contraption he'd previously worn.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart." Leaning down, she pressed a kiss on his forehead, slightly surprised and very pleased when the boy allowed it without recoiling.

"The doctor said its starting to heal nicely," Cal informed her. "He still has to go to therapy but only once a week now."

"I don't like therapy," Taylor groused.

"Nobody does, boyo, but at least its not every day like last month."

"I guess."

"And how about Daddy Cal? How did his appointment go?"

Limping to the couch, Cal flopped down, snuggling the youngster on his lap. "Not as good as Taylor's."

"Oh, Cal."

"I held his hand so he could be very brave too," Taylor solemnly informed her. "He only cried a little."

"Just a little," Cal affirmed with the same solemn face.

Gill nodded seriously at her two men. "I'm glad you were there to help your Daddy Cal. I don't know what he would do without you."

Taylor ducked his head at the praise, but not before Gill saw the pleased expression on his small face. She dug into her candy jar and pulled out two twizzlers. "Here's a reward for both of you for being so brave."

"Thank you, Gillian," the boy mumbled.

"Thank you, Gillian," Cal parroted.

"Now tell me what happened?"

"The doctor thinks I'll need more surgery. It looks like the screws in the ankle are coming loose."

"Oh, no, Cal, not again," she groaned. It seemed quite bizarre that the one injury that had seemed so trivial at the time of his accident should be the one that haunted him more than a year later. Except for the scars on his chest and throat, the other injuries had healed without lasting effect, but he'd already had three surgeries trying to fix his ankle. His free-swinging swagger had become a much more careful limp.

"Shouldn't be so bad. He said they could probably do it outpatient. He wants a CT scan before he decides."

"Well, whatever needs to be done." Her mind already turned to rearranging their schedules again. The three mini-mites had already forced a major change in their lifestyles. No more twenty hour days at work, at least not for both of them at the same time. When they'd decided to try to adopt they'd known they couldn't continue with their workaholic tendencies. Of course, they hadn't planned for three kids at the same time or for them all to have some degree of medical and emotional issues.

Chad scampered back into Gillian's office, flying his Lego plane, making engine sounds, Eli trailing behind him. "Look, mummy! Look! Airplane."

"Let me see that airplane," Gill demanded with a joyful grin. Taylor bounced off Cal's lap to examine his brother's creation.

Each of them had their issues, their triumphs large and small. And somehow they all fit together. Gillian wouldn't change the life she'd found since she married Cal for anything in the world. Even with the past year of meeting the parents, a wedding, honeymoon, having the trio of munchkins fall in their laps, threatened criminal charges and a betrayal of trust…

But that's all another story for another day.

**Author's note**: Well that's it. I hoped you liked it. If there is anyone out there who might be willing to bounce story ideas around and beta read for the next installment, I would be thrilled.


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